


the mind is a fragile thing

by demonskie (strasesky)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst, Assassin AU, M/M, Mystery, assassin!oikawa, businessman!iwaizumi, iwaoi - Freeform, k there's a lil bit violence in chap 6 but don't worry about it??, lots of plot twists i think, now that i think about it its kinda a Coffee Shop AU, o yea theres angst lmao, tags will be updated as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4165482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strasesky/pseuds/demonskie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years.<br/>That's how long Oikawa has been lost.<br/>That's how long he's spent becoming someone else.<br/>That's how long it will take for him to meet his friend, his lover, his <i>target</i> once again.<br/>And that's how long his mind has been dying a slow death.<br/>--<br/>Oikawa Tooru. 28. Assassin. Brown-haired, brown-eyed, pale-skinned, undeniably pretty.<br/>Also undeniably unable to remember the life before he was 18.<br/>Sometimes he remembers snippets of his life. A mother's laugh, a friend's hug. A father's smile, a lover's gentle caress.<br/>But otherwise, he has a great gaping hole in the midst of his mind.<br/>When he's given an assignment to take out one Iwaizumi Hajime, a billionaire and leader of a multi-million dollar company, all it takes is one look and the wide, wide chasm shakes.<br/>All it takes is one look, and his current life falls down around him.<br/>Falls down around him, but builds something new.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>on hold, sorry!</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the face of a distant past

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE NOTE:  
> **  
>  i think it's evident and fair to say that this fic, along with all my other haikyuu ones, are on serious hold. at the time of the most recent chapter, i fell into a huge writer's block and when i got out i wasn't writing hq fics. i still have a plot and stuff for this universe, but it probably won't be written any time soon. if it does, the entire fic will probably get rewritten and reposted.  
> i'm not going to delete any of my works, because i know how depressing it feels to come back to a fic and see it deleted.  
> i want to thank you all for your support this entire time. thank you, thank you, thank you. see u all again sometime!
> 
>  
> 
> just my sad excuse to write guns and violence (i'm sorry)  
> There's not much though, and it's not graphic, so I didn't put it in the archive warnings~  
> basically. oikawa's had amnesia for... ten years? in that time he's become a pretty skilled assassin. and then he's given an assignment to kill iwaizumi. there's more, but... that would be spoilery ;0  
> (also, all locations and such are in japan, but are otherwise made up; i don't know anything about japan's geography! ;v;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...what do you mEAN i've not updated fine tuning and dynamics in over a month?????? i-i dON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT  
> ...  
>  ok, i'm sorry. i'm really, _really_ sorry...! i've just got a mind blank for fine tuning right now, and as for dynamics... i'M WORKING ON IT. It should be out sometime soon... maybe...?  
>  sorry about that, everyone...

“This is your new assignment.”

Ten years.

“His name is Iwaizumi Hajime.”

He’s been lost for _ten years._

“He’s the owner of a multi-million dollar company.”

When he was eighteen, he washed up on the banks of the Yellow River.

“He is a billionaire, and has a great deal of security.”

Irihata-san found him. Irihata-san gave him a new life.

“You’ll have to be careful about this one.”

A new life as an assassin.

“Luckily, we know where he’s going to be next Saturday, and how he’s going to be vulnerable.”

Not that he really minded.

“This is where he’ll be. This is where you’ll do it.”

Anything to take away the pain.

“We’re counting on you, Oikawa-san.”

***

Oikawa Tooru. 28. Assassin. Brown-haired, brown-eyed, pale-skinned, undeniably pretty.

Also undeniably unable to remember his life before he was 18.

Sometimes he remembers snippets of it. A mother's laugh, a friend's hug. A father's smile, a lover's gentle caress.

But otherwise, he has a great gaping hole in the midst of his mind.

For those first two years, he had yearned to remember. He had yearned to know himself.

At the beginning of his third year, he changed his mind and went about improving his killing skills instead.

“Oikawa. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Now, now, Kuroo, no need to be so vulgar.”

Oikawa looks at his long time friend, offering him a wide grin as he sets his pencil down.

“You’re _drawing someone._ This is an occasion where vulgarity is needed. Is he your new love interest?”

Kuroo Tetsurou. 28. Assassin. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, tan skin, good looking. The kind of guy who looks like an asshole and is an asshole. The kind of guy who knows just how to get under your skin.

But Oikawa is that kind of guy too.

“Don’t be jealous that I can reel in girls _and_ guys, Kuroo. Everyone loves how I look.” Oikawa sends his friend a wink.

“He probably won’t when you kill him.” Kuroo plops down next to Oikawa in the seat beside his. “Irihata-san asked me to work with you on this case.”

Oikawa huffs. “I don’t need your lousy help.”

“You know you love it.”

Unfortunately, it’s true that with Kuroo’s help the case will be much, much easier. Oikawa, having researched his subject earlier on in the day, knows that this _Iwaizumi Hajime_ will be a tough one.

Kuroo suddenly leans forwards and grabs the sketchbook, where Oikawa had been (somewhat mindlessly) drawing a picture of his target’s face. Without a reference. Oh, the irony kills him; how he’s been gifted with a _photographic memory_ yet can’t remember his life before this.

“He’s a handsome one,” Kuroo notes. “It’ll be a shame to kill him.” And Kuroo, before Oikawa can stop him, flips back through the sketchbook pages. His eyes widen and he whistles. “That’s rather... obsessive.”

“Shut up,” Oikawa says, snatching the sketchbook back with a glare, feeling his face begin to blush. “He just looks familiar, okay?”

“Familiar enough that you would draw him over and over?” Kuroo asks, an eyebrow raised, before he pauses. “Wait, so, when you say familiar...”

“Like, from... before.” Oikawa stares at the face on his sketchbook, which looks impassively and unseeingly back. He sighs. The oh-so familiar frustration has returned, and is throbbing in the back of his mind. He wants to punch it in the face.

“Oh. Did you tell Irihata-san?”

Oikawa shakes his head mutely. “He’d kick me off the assignment. I don’t want that.”

“So you want to kill someone who might know who you are?” Kuroo smirks at him. Oikawa shoots him another venomous glare back.

“I’d given up on my past after, well, _y’know_ , but something’s screaming at me to get looking again. To find who I was.”

There’s a pause, during which Kuroo seems surprisingly solemn. Then, he snickers, “Maybe it’s your hormones screaming at you to get laid.”

Oikawa throws his sketchbook at him.

_***_

_There’s someone chasing him._

_There’s someone chasing him, and now he’s falling._

_A cold, harsh wetness envelops his body as he plunges into a river. He cries out, but blood comes out of his mouth instead. Blood and bullets._

_And then there’s someone gripping his clothes. A man with spiky dark hair pulls him close, and says,_

_“I loved you._

_“But you’re a murderer now.”_

Oikawa wakes up with the feeling of desolation.

_But you’re a murderer now._

Faces of those he’s killed flash through his mind. He never had inhibitions about killing, even though in the beginning, the core of him knew it was wrong. But he went on training, went on fighting, went on _murdering_ despite that.

He had just wanted to be rid of the pain. The pain of losing someone. Of losing _something._

The worst part is that he doesn’t remember what that something even is. That’s the fucking problem, isn’t it?

He stares at the bunkbed above his, forcing his breaths to match Kuroo’s. Calming himself, he feels his frustration and regret and anger slowly fade away. It had taken him five years to master that skill, one that took away his sorrow.

It isn’t the first time he’s had dreams like that. In the first year, they were a regular occurrence. But they rarely meant anything, and often Oikawa felt like they were there to mock him. After his third year, he stopped having those dreams regularly.

Sometimes, though, he finds himself waking in a cold sweat, his heart pounding, feeling a chilling sort of...

Fear.

Oikawa turns onto his side, peering at his sketchbook laid out on his nightstand. He finds himself reaching for it, careful not to knock his pencil onto the floor. Then, he flips to the page where he had been drawing Iwaizumi Hajime, businessman and billionaire. In the dim light, he can only just make out the man’s features; sturdy, solid, hard, handsome, and familiar as hell.

_Why?_

His fingers trace over the line of Iwaizumi Hajime’s jaw. He can almost imagine the feeling of the other man’s skin.

_Why?_

He sets his sketchbook down, aware that he’s being a little creepy. But what can he do? What can he do when he feels this tugging in his chest, this choking in his throat?

 _Why_ is this happening to him, and why is it happening now?

He feels that familiar burn in the back of his throat, the one that lets him know he’s about to cry. He hates it. He hates crying.

 _There’s nothing shameful about crying, Tooru_.

Oikawa’s eyes snap open, feeling a flash of _something_ fill his mind.

_It won’t stop me..._

_From loving you._

***

“Ready?” Kuroo asks, his voice crackling waves in his ear.

Oikawa tilts his head, presses a hand to the earpiece. “You know I was born ready, Kuro-chan,” he says, singing the ‘-chan’.

“I wish you weren’t,” Kuroo mutters. Oikawa laughs, and adjusts his position on the rooftop, tightening his grip on his gun. Silence rings through his earpiece, and then Kuroo says, “You sure you want to do this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Oikawa asks, but he knows his voice is too light, too carefree.

“He might know something, about you.”

Oikawa stares down at the barrel of his sniper rifle without really seeing it. Finally, he says, “I’m over it.”

“As if I believe y–” There’s a sudden pause. “Oikawa, he’s there. This is your last chance to pull out.”

Oikawa ignores that last bit, and leans down to look through his scope. “Got him.”

“Oikawa.”

His finger rests on the trigger of his Barrett MRAD.

“Last chance.”

“Shut up, Kuroo,” Oikawa says harshly. He can see the back of Iwaizumi Hajime’s head.

_Turn around._

His finger tightens. His pulse is unnaturally jumpy; the last time he felt like this on a job was his very first one. Unlike that time however, he wasn’t wishing that his target...

_Turn around._

Oikawa takes a deep, shuddering breath. This might be his only chance at figuring something out about his past. But this is also a job. And didn’t he also say he was done with his old life? That he didn’t want to know?

Is he a coward, for not wanting to remember, for not wanting to know about the fear that wakes him in the night?

Just as he’s about to pull the trigger, Iwaizumi Hajime turns around.

***

_“This is Tooru.”_

_“Hajime, come over here and introduce yourself!”_

_“You just told them my name though, okaa-san.”_

_“_ Hajime _.”_

_A sigh. “I’m Hajime. It’s nice to meet you.”_

_“What a sweet child. Go on, Tooru, say hello.”_

 

 

 

 

_“Iwa-chan! Let’s join the volleyball club!”_

_“Ehh? But I don’t want to play volleyball-hey! Stop pulling on my clothes!”_

_“Iwa-chaaaaaan, pleaaaaaaaaaase?”_

_“...Fine, but only for a bit. I want to join the baseball club.”_

 

 

 

 

_“Your fangirls are fucking annoying, Oikawa.”_

_“Iwa-chan said a bad word!”_

_“Shut_ up _, Trashykawa.”_

_“You’re just jealous.”_

_“Am not.”_

_“Am too.”_

_“Am_ not! _”_

 

 

 

 

 _“Hey! Shittykawa! That’s the fourth fucking time this week, and it’s_ Thursday _. The coach told you not to overwork yourself!”_

_“Sorry! Sorry, Iwa-cha-agh! Not the hair! I promise I’ll stop!”_

_“You better promise, or I’ll kick your ass, you dumbass.”_

_“Were you worried about me, Iwa-chan?”_

_“Go to hell.”_

 

 

 

 

_“’I’ this, ‘I’ that, it’s annoying!”_

_Pain, and then-_

_“Do you think you’re fighting by yourself? You’ve got to be kidding, you dumbass!”_

 

 

 

 

_“Iwa-chan... It hurts...”_

_“...I’ll be right there.”_

 

 

 

 

_“I thought I told you not to overwork yourself.”_

_“Iwa-chan, I’m sorry-”_

_“Are you really? Are you really sorry? Even though I told you, so many fucking times, to not fucking overwork yourself, here you are, with a fucked up knee!”_

 

 

 

 

_“Can... we talk, Iwa-chan?”_

_“We are talking.”_

_“In private.”_

 

 

 

 

_“I love you.”_

_“I love you too, you know that.”_

_“Iwa-chan... I never knew it was possible to be this dense.”_

_“What the fuck are you talking about, Trashykawa?”_

_“I’ll rephrase. I’m_ in _love with you, Iwa-chan. You know, love. Like, ‘my-heart-pounds-when-I-see-you’?”_

 

 

 

 

_“We’ll be eighteen soon, Iwa-chan!”_

_“So?”_

_“So that means we can do the deed!”_

_“What?”_

_“The deed. You know, the two man tango, the home run, the beast with two backs?”_

_“What?”_

_“_ Sex _, Iwa-chan. God, you’re an idiot.”_

 

 

 

 

_“Onee-chan gave me condoms as an early birthday present...”_

_“Your sister’s way too fucking observant, Bakakawa.”_

***

Oikawa pukes on the roof.

Alarm filters into his mind. Part of it is his own horror, the other part is Kuroo’s voice. “Oikawa? Are you all right?”

“F-Fuck,” he splutters, staggering back. “ _Fuck.”_

“What the _fuck_ happened, Oikawa, you better tell me right now.”

“I’m not doing this,” he whispers. “I can’t do this.”

There’s a silence. “I’ll meet you there.”

Oikawa spits the residing bile onto the roof, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He feels dizzy. He feels dead.

He doesn’t know what the fuck happened, so he can’t really answer Kuroo’s question. All he knows is...

He doesn’t want to kill Iwaizumi Hajime.

He _can’t_ kill Iwaizumi Hajime.

And tomorrow, he’ll find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might have been my chance to write guns and violence but i don't know anything about guns so...
> 
> yup, short chapter guys. I'M GOING TO TRY AND UPDATE THIS ONE REGULARLY??? MAYBE??????  
> no guarantees tho  
> i'm a shit updater im sorry  
> though its summer so... i have free time? :D
> 
> if anyone's wondering, it is hajime who says there's nothing shameful about crying. beautiful iwa-chan.


	2. a smile that makes his pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellloooo im back  
> sorry about the long wait (tho not as long as my other fics!!!1! haha!!!1!!!11!1! very funny skie!!1!1!!!!). i went on holiday, and didn't bring my computer.
> 
> it was a terrible holiday.
> 
> i should've brought my computer.
> 
> (anyway. i heard that tokyo has two representatives for volleyball??? am i wrong??? ///rolls over)

Just as Oikawa finishes typing out his email, Kuroo ambles into the room holding his new identity.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Kuroo says as Oikawa takes the ID from him.

“Kuro-chan, when have I not known what I’m doing?” Oikawa sends him a wink, flipping the card in his hand. _Yahaba Ryota_ , it reads, and the photo is one of Oikawa looking serious, placid.

“You’re working in the coffeeshop Iwaizumi frequents. It’s called Owl’s Coffee. It is co-owned by Akaashi Keiji and Bokuto Koutarou. You can see their profiles here.” Kuroo hands a file to him. Oikawa silently flips through it, noting the calm-looking Akaashi and the excitable-looking Bokuto. He feels like he knows the names, somewhere in the back of his mind.

 _“Tokyo’s representatives are Nekoma and Fukurodani,”_ someone whispers in his mind.

 _“I wanted to play Fukurodani. Damn Ushiwaka.”_ Oikawa jolts as his own voice murmurs back.

Another fucking memory. He hates the little snippets of his previous life he’s been getting ever since he saw Iwaizumi Hajime.

“Oikawa?” Kuroo asks, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Have you ever played volleyball, Kuroo?” Oikawa answers, without looking back at him. He closes the file, turns back to his computer, presses _Send_ on his email.

“I did in Junior High. But that was a long time ago.” Kuroo squints at him. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason.” Oikawa hums to himself as Kuroo scoffs and shakes his head. “When do I start?”

“Today,” Kuroo says, still looking at him suspiciously. He goes over to his bed in the hotel room they’re sharing, and when he returns he’s holding a cafe uniform. Oikawa wrinkles his nose. “Your shift starts in an hour.”

Oikawa sighs, checking the clock. 7am. He grudgingly accepts the clothes from Kuroo, looking at them with distaste as Kuroo passes him a schedule for his shifts. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Kuroo asks. There’s anxiety in his golden eyes, something Oikawa rarely sees.

“No,” Oikawa says, closing off the tab with his email. He’s left facing the History page of the official site for Iwaizumi Hajime’s business, _Ace Pharmaceuticals_. ‘ _When Iwaizumi Hajime took over the business from his father at eighteen,_ it reads, _he immediately changed the name of the company. When asked why, he only answered, ‘To remember.’_ “But what choice do I have?”

Kuroo says nothing, only watches him with a sad look in his eye.

***

It’s when he sees Iwaizumi Hajime walking down the road that Oikawa realises he has absolutely _no plan whatsoever_ for interacting with the man, despite having a whole morning to plan. He shoots a quick glance to the side, where Akaashi Keiji is working silently on calculating costs. Bokuto Koutarou is nowhere to be seen. Oikawa purses his lips, looking down at the counter. He could always do the typical spill-coffee-on-his-shirt, but he doesn’t know how well that’d work and right now he doesn’t feel the urge to spill boiling hot liquid on a customer (possibly seeing Akaashi quietly pissed off face directed at him scares him more than anything).

Before he can decide what to do, the bell above the door jingles, announcing the arrival of one Iwaizumi Hajime. Oikawa peeks up slowly, praying for no sudden flashbacks and no sudden vomiting.

He’s even more breathtaking in the flesh. The pictures were good, but the real thing is much better. Iwaizumi is currently on the phone and not paying attention to the barista. He sees Akaashi though, and makes sure to give him a smile. Akaashi Keiji smiles back.

Oikawa suddenly finds himself wishing he was worthy of a smile, too.

He takes a deep breath. He can do this.

He lets his face morph into a wide, hopefully charming smile. “Hi,” he chirps, tucking a stray curl of hair behind his ear. “What can I do for you?”

Iwaizumi Hajime’s gaze swings to him, and there’s a sudden double take, a sudden freeze in his features.

Oikawa becomes very conscious that Iwaizumi is staring.

The voice at the other end of his call calls his name, asking if he’s there. “I’ll call you back,” Iwaizumi says, his voice deep, rough, and achingly familiar. He hits the _end_ button without looking, stuffs his phone in his pocket. His eyes touch down, glancing at Oikawa’s nametag. For a second, he fears it says his true name, rather than the _Yahaba Ryota_ he decided to adopt.

“Hey,” he says to Oikawa, who feels his pulse kickstart, “do I know y-”

“Iwaizumi!” Bokuto’s jubilant voice rings over the cafe. “’Bout time you visited!”

Iwaizumi turns away from Oikawa, who feels the air rush from his chest in a single instant, stepping back. He has to fight the urge to clutch his chest. _Maybe I can’t do this,_ he thinks desperately, _maybe Kuroo was right._ _Fuck._

The billionaire business man gives Bokuto a wide smile. “Did you ever consider I just didn’t want to see your lousy face?” he teases as Bokuto slaps him on the back before pouting.

“Don’t be mean!” Bokuto grins. “What’ve you been up to lately?”

“Oh, this and that,” Iwaizumi says airily. “Nothing important.”

It’s pretty obvious in itself; how can such an important businessman be up to nothing important? But Oikawa can detect the lie. The way Iwaizumi Hajime’s hand twitches at his side, how he smiles too quickly after he says it. Oikawa bites his lip, hard. Why does he know this man’s habits? Why does he know how he moves when he lies? Why does he know his voice? Why does he...

Why does he know anything about him?

For the first time in a long time, Oikawa wishes he had his memory.

“Anyway,” Iwaizumi says, “I was just about to order coffee, before you so rudely butted in.”

“That’s so mean! Akaashi, tell him he’s being mean!”

“Stop distracting Iwaizumi-san, Bokuto-san. And stop being loud.”

“Akaashi!”

Iwaizumi gives a laugh. Oikawa feels the ground fall out from under him. He _knows_ that laugh. “Good to see you guys are as domestic as ever.” He grins, before turning back to look at Oikawa. Something breaks in Iwaizumi’s eyes when he sees him. Oikawa doesn’t miss it, the look of pain. He gives a steady smile, all the same. “I’d like a cappuccino, please.”

“I, uh...” Oikawa clears his throat. Pastes a smile onto his face. “Of course! To go?”

“Oh. Yes, please.”

Oikawa hums affirmatively, turning around to make the cup of coffee. He’s biting his lip atrociously hard now, yet it still doesn’t bleed. When he turns back around, coffee in hand, Iwaizumi has a hand on the counter, fist curled slightly. His other hand is running through his hair.

 _It means he’s bracing himself for something_ , Oikawa’s subconscious tells him. Oikawa wishes he didn’t know that.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, taking the coffee from Oikawa. Before Oikawa even tells him the price, the correct coins are handed to him. Oikawa blinks in surprise. Offers Iwaizumi a grin.

Iwaizumi Hajime’s face breaks down into misery for all of a second before he composes himself.

Oikawa’s left gaping. Had he caused that look on Iwaizumi’s face? Swallowing hard, he enters the order into the cashier and dumps the coins in the register.

He wants to know.

He wants to know the truth about himself. He wants to know his past life, his life with _this man_. But he’s scared. So scared.

“Have a nice day,” Oikawa says to Iwaizumi. The other man doesn’t move.

 _Please please please just go I can’t take it anymore you have to go please your face is_ killing _me-_

“Uh, Yahaba-san, right?” Iwaizumi says. Oikawa forces a smile onto his face.

“That’s me,” he says as brightly as he can; which is to say, not very brightly at all.

“I... Would you like to go out for lunch with me sometime?”

The words leave Iwaizumi in a rush, and give Oikawa a twist in his stomach. He stares at the other man, who’s wringing his hands uncomfortably (the coffee sits on the counter, almost untouched).”N-Not on a date or anything, if that’s what you were wondering, j-just, uh-”

“Sure,” Oikawa says, before he can even think about it. “I... yeah.”

Bokuto and Akaashi are staring at them. Oikawa tries to avoid his employers’ gazes, tries to fight the blush.

“Hey, Iwaizumi,” Bokuto says, sounding utterly serious. “Is this about... _that_?”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi warns.

“It’s okay, Akaashi. Yeah, it... it is.” Iwaizumi hesitates, before pulling out his phone. It looks different to the one he was using earlier. “Um... Shall we exchange numbers?”

“My phone’s in my locker,” Oikawa says slowly. “But I can give you my number?”

Iwaizumi nods, passing Oikawa his phone. Oikawa’s halfway through typing _Oikawa Tooru_ before he remembers, no, that’s not his name right now. He deletes it as fast as he can, feeling slightly sick to his stomach.

“This is my number.” Iwaizumi Hajime passes him a napkin with his name and number written on it. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

 _I know,_ Oikawa wants to say. Instead, he offers him a small grin. “Yahaba Ryota,” he replies, pointing at his nametag. “It’s nice to meet you, Iwa-chan.”

The name slips out, before he can stop it.

Iwaizumi’s eyes go wide, and he steps back. Through his horror, Oikawa dimly thinks, _at least there aren’t any other customers waiting to be served._

But he can’t show his slip up on his face. He gives a bright smile, flashes a peace sign. “I can call you that, right?”

“I-” Iwaizumi looks at Akaashi, who stands up from his table. Iwaizumi seems to be hyperventilating, panicking. “I-”

“Calm down, Iwaizumi-san,” Akaashi says, gently, placing a hand on his arm. Bokuto darts to get him some water, while Oikawa just looks on in shock. Calling him _Iwa-chan..._ Had the two really known each other, then? Before Oikawa had lost his memory?

“I don’t have to call you that,” he says in a rush. He’s distinctly aware of the eyes of the other customers and workers around them.

“I-It’s okay,” Iwaizumi gasps out. “I-I don’t mind.”

 _But you do_ , Oikawa thinks clearly, unable to help the struggling man before him. A memory flashes at the forefront of his mind-

_“Hey, aren’t we getting a little too old for this... ‘Iwa-chan’ stuff?”_

_“Iwa-chan, you’ve always been old though!” A flash of pain. “Ouch! You brute!”_

_“Seriously though, Trashykawa.”_

_“...No.”_

_“What?”_

_“No, I won’t stop calling you Iwa-chan. I refuse.”_

_“Come on, Oikawa, it’s a childish nickname-”_

_“The answer’s still ‘no’, Iwa-chan!”_

_“You live to piss me off.”_

_“I do, don’t I!”_

He’s going to throw up again.

He presses a hand to his lips as Iwaizumi takes in a shaky breath. “Sorry about that,” he says, his smile fake as hell. “It’s just- I haven’t heard that nickname in a while.”

“Oh,” is all Oikawa can bring himself to say. “It’s okay. Some things you just can’t forget.”

As soon as Oikawa says it he realises how _dumb_ that sounds, and how ironic it is for him.

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi takes his cappuccino in his hand, smiling shakily. “So. Text me when you’re free, yeah?”

“Of course,” Oikawa says. Iwaizumi leaves, his coat billowing out behind him in the frigid February air. Bokuto jogs after him, calling his name. Akaashi heads to Oikawa instead.

“Take a break,” he says, softly. Oikawa stares at him blankly.

“What?”

“Take a break,” Akaashi repeats, more insistent. “In fact, go home. Your shift’s pretty much over anyway.”

Trying to act every bit the worried employee, Oikawa says, “But it’s only my first day?”

“It’s fine. You did well today.” Akaashi leans on the counter, studying him with unreadable dark eyes.

“I...” Oikawa looks down at his hands, which are shaking slightly. “Okay.”

He moves to go back to the changing rooms, before he pauses. “Akaashi-san,” he says, turning. Akaashi is still watching him impassively, and nods for him to continue. “Is Iwa-chan all right?”

“Iwaizumi-san’s fine,” Akaashi answers. “He’s had a tricky few years, that’s all.”

“I see.” Even though he didn’t. His heart is pounding painfully in his chest, and he still feels sick. Oikawa gives Akaashi a smile. “Thank you, Akaashi-san.”

“See you tomorrow, Yahaba-san.”

When Oikawa gets back to the hotel, he falls into a dream of running and killing and drowning.

Always, always, drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not as happy with this chapter, but it'll do?  
> forgot to mention earlier! if anybody's wondering about kuroo, basically it's like this: he went to the same middle school ie he was there with kenma and played volleyball and stuff, but he never went to nekoma, and in fact went to a different highschool, which led him on his path, blah blah blah
> 
> also  
> i do in fact have a tumblr, if anyone wants to know... it's p much the exact same name  
> demonskie.tumblr.com  
> you can ask questions or read stories or whatever  
> ty for reading friends


	3. the unreliable eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh??? COULD IT BE???!?!??! AN ON-TIME UPDATE?????  
> well im really a day early but i figured you guys deserved it  
> basically, i'll try to update every week BUT NO GUARANTEES PLEASE DO NOT TAKE ME FOR MY WORD IM NOT TRUSTWORTHY

_“Iwa-chan,” he says to his best friend and boyfriend, “can I come over tonight?”_

_Iwaizumi furrows his brow. “You just came over yesterday, Oikawa.”_

_“Iwa-chan, pleeeeeease?” he whines. “C’mon, we’re boyfriends now! You should be more accommodating.”_

_Oikawa knows well enough that simply saying ‘boyfriend’ is enough to get Iwaizumi to comply. The other boy blushes. “Fine,” he mutters, packing his gym clothes into his bag._

_“Yay!” Oikawa drapes himself over Iwaizumi’s shoulders, hugging him tightly._

_“Get off me, Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi growls, trying to shove his boyfriend off. Oikawa only clings tighter, grinning wide against Iwaizumi’s neck. His hands move down to squeeze his chest and Iwaizumi instantly halts, his blush becoming ever brighter. “D-Don’t do that!”_

_“Ehhh, is Iwa-chan shy?” Oikawa presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s neck._

_“Only while we’re in front of others!”_

_Oikawa takes a look around, noting with some amusement that all their teammates have left the clubroom already. “We’re not, though,” he half-sings, pressing another kiss to the back of Iwaizumi’s ear._

_“What?” Iwaizumi spins around. His face grows even hotter. “Anyway, Oikawa, we can’t do that right now!”_

_“Why not?” Oikawa pouts._

_“B-Because we’re in the changing rooms?” Iwaizumi splutters. He rubs his arm bashfully. “A-Anyway, we have plenty of time for that... later.”_

_Oikawa cackles in his boyfriend’s ear. “Iwa-chan, thinking such lewd thoughts!”_

_“Shut up! You’re the one who started it!”_

_Oikawa slips off his back, sending a grin to his blushing boyfriend. He’s happy. He doesn’t care that they lost to Karasuno. He doesn’t care that his highschool volleyball career is almost over. He doesn’t care, because he has Iwa-chan._

_His phone beeps in his bag, and Oikawa fishes it out, frowning when he sees it’s a message from his sister._

Sayumi nee-chan~

>> Tooru!! i’m running late from work and i need you to pick Takeru up! Please can you do this for me?

_Oikawa huffs, long and hard, pouting a little. Sometimes he thinks his sister and her son live to make his life suck. His boyfriend looks over. “What’s wrong?”_

_“Nee-chan needs me to pick Takeru up,” he tells him. “I’ll meet you at your house later?”_

_“That’s fine.” Iwaizumi gives Oikawa a smile. Oikawa feels his heart almost stop. He can never get enough of his boyfriend’s grin. “I’ll see you at seven, maybe?”_

_“Yeah.” Oikawa flings his arms around Iwaizumi as Iwaizumi stumbles and curses._

_“Some more warning next time, Shittykawa!”_

_“I love you, Hajime.”_

_Oikawa doesn’t need to see Iwaizumi to know that he’s blushing (again!). “I love you too, Tooru. And stop acting like we’re never gonna see each other again,” he grumbles._

_“But Iwa-chan! Someone might mug me on the way to Takeru’s school due to their envy over my looks!”_

_“If anyone were to attack you, it would be due to your obnoxiousness.”_

_“Iwa-chan! So rude!”_

_“I’ll see you tonight, Bakakawa.”_

_He doesn’t._

_Oikawa doesn’t see Iwaizumi ever again._

***

He’s going to throw up.

He’s definitely, definitely going to throw up.

Lucky for Oikawa, the bathroom isn’t far from his bed in the hotel room he and Kuroo are sharing. He doesn’t even bother with the lights as he darts inside, hurling his dinner into the toilet bowl.

“Oikawa?” comes Kuroo’s confused murmur. Oikawa almost doesn’t hear him over the sound of his coughing and pounding heart.

“Yeah,” he croaks, his voice almost unrecognisable.

“Ah, fuck,” Kuroo says, his voice louder this time as he comes padding into the bathroom. The light flashes on above them. “Again?”

“Again,” Oikawa confirms, spitting the rest from his mouth. Kuroo silently hands him a glass of water, and Oikawa takes it gratefully, rinsing his mouth out three times before he’s had enough.

“What was it about this time?” Kuroo asks, watching him carefully.

“Pretty sure it was the last time I saw him before... you know.” He flushes the toilet, watching the contents of his stomach go swirling away. Much like his memories probably had, too.

Kuroo stays silent for a moment. “Did it give you any clues as to how you lost your memory?”

“No. In fact, I learnt some pretty useless shit, like how I had – no, _have_ – a sister, and she has a son. So I have a nephew.” The dead, listless tone is clear in Oikawa’s voice. He wishes he didn’t feel like crap. He wishes he had his memory.

He wishes a hell of a lot of things, but none of them come true, anyway.

“Well,” Kuroo says, “that fucking sucks.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa agrees, washing his hands quickly.

They head out of the room together, Oikawa throwing a quick glance at the clock. 4:04am, it reads, in bright, blinking green letters. When he turns back to look at Kuroo, something’s being thrown at him. Oikawa snatches it out of the air, sharp reflexes courtesy of his years of training, and blinks when he sees it’s his phone. “What’s this for?”

“Text him,” Kuroo says, flopping onto the couch and switching on a light. He fixes Oikawa with a a darkly intense gaze. “I hate seeing you like this, Oikawa.”

Oikawa doesn’t answer, merely unlocks his phone in silence. Then, he says, “It’s four fucking am, though.”

“So? He’s a businessman, he’ll be awake.”

Kuroo turns out to be right.

About two minutes after Oikawa texts him with the message, ‘ _Iwaizumi! :D Yahaba here’_ – he almost types _Oikawa_ and fumbles when he realises his mistake – ‘ _texting like you asked!_ ’, Iwaizumi replies.

_> > I distinctly recall asking you to text when you had free time, and not when you should be sleeping._

_ << don’t be so grumpy!! sleep time _is _my free time._

_> > Is that right._

_> > Regardless, seeing as you’re awake anyway, I might just as well ask._

Oikawa blinks at the screen, half-wondering what he wants to ask, and half-noting his formal way of texting.

_> > Are you free tomorrow?_

That _had_ been the whole point of the number exchange, hadn’t it?

                _< < i’m free after my shift at the cafe. It ends around lunch?? 1pm?_

_> > Perfect. I can pick you up for lunch from the cafe, then._

_ << really?? thank you, iwaizumi!_

_> > Yes, really._

_> > And, you know, it’s okay to call me Iwa-chan. If you want, that is._

Oikawa swallows hard against his throat. _“Trashykawa, how many times have I told you to stop calling me Iwa-chan?” “Ehhh? But it’s such a cute nickname!”_

_ << okay, Iwa-chan! ^u^ i’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, then!_

_> > Yeah._

Oikawa slumps against the sofa with a sigh. “How’d it go?” Kuroo says, holding a cup of tea that definitely hadn’t been there before. “I made one for you too,” he adds, passing a mug from table beside him.

“Thanks,” Oikawa says, brow furrowed. He must have been really concentrating on the conversation to not have noticed the kettle boiling. “It went fine. We’re meeting each other at lunch tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a date,” remarks Kuroo. If Oikawa didn’t known him well, he would have easily accepted Kuroo’s innocent face and tone. But he does know him well, and narrows his eyes at his friend.

“Kuroo.”

“What? I mean, he asked you out, didn’t he?”

“He said – and I remember telling you this! – that it wasn’t as a date.”

“And you believe him?”

Oikawa just glares. Kuroo sighs. “Fine, fine.” His face takes on a more serious expression. “Oikawa, what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?” He doesn’t know which situation Kuroo’s referring to. There’s a lot. There’s the situation with Irihata-san (Oikawa hasn’t checked his email yet for his boss’s reply but he’s not sure he wants to know), the situation with his memory (though that one’s been around for a long time), and the situation with-

“Iwaizumi. What are you going to do? Are you going to tell him you know him? Are you going to tell him you’ve lost your memory and basically don’t remember anything before the age of eighteen?” Kuroo’s staring at him intensely, arms folded against his chest.

Oikawa stays silent for a few minutes, thinking it over. He’s not going to tell Iwaizumi. No, he’s _definitely_ not going to tell Iwaizumi. Finally, he says, “I’m going to meet Iwaizumi. I’m going to become friends with him. And I’m going to find out what the fuck’s wrong with me.”

Kuroo pauses. “Good plan,” he says.

“Thanks.”

***

Neither of them get any more sleep that night.

In the morning, after some deliberation over his outfit ( _“I have to look best for Iwa-chan, Kuroo!” “Does it really take you fifteen minutes to do that?”)_ , Oikawa walks to his new work. He feels rather domestic, considering he’s actually a skilled assassin who doesn’t have his memory.

When he walks in through the staff entrance, greeting his new co-workers cheerfully, he’s met with wide-eyed stares. “What is it?” he asks, suspiciously. “I know I’m gorgeous, but you really don’t have to stare that much!”

“Have you read the newspapers?” one co-worker asks, ignoring him, and passes a newspaper when Oikawa shakes his head. “Page nine.”

Oikawa flips to page nine.

There, he finds a somewhat blurry photo of Iwaizumi Hajime and...

Himself.

His eyebrows furrow as he takes in the headline: _Is Iwaizumi Hajime, Businessman Extraordinaire, Head of Ace Pharmaceuticals, Gay?_

His lip curls before he even knows what he’s doing. He skims the page disinterestedly. _Yesterday, Iwaizumi Hajime arrived at Owl’s Coffee for a nice cappuccino, and witnesses claim he landed himself a date instead. With a man. New barista, Yahaba Ryouta, only began work on that_ very day _-_

Oikawa looks at the writer of the article, one _Takayama Rokurou_. What an asshole.

His eye catches a certain section of the text, and he takes a closer look, frowning a little. _Iwaizumi Hajime has never been in a romantic relationship (that we know of!) since he’s taken over his father’s business. Before, when questioned on the subject of his single status, Iwaizumi-san has only responded that he’s ‘too busy’ to get involved with anyone. But, it’s rumoured that before his father’s death, he was in a relationship with his-_

“Yahaba-san. Are you ready for work?”

Akaashi appears in front of him, face impassive as always, watching Oikawa carefully. Oikawa looks up, startled, before nodding and flashing a smile his way. “Of course, Aka-chan!”

Akaashi merely raises an eyebrow at the nickname but doesn’t protest. Oikawa folds the paper in half, before cleanly ripping it down the middle.

“You really shouldn’t listen to gossip,” he says to his co-workers, with a terrifying smile on his face. “And homophobia is _very_ wrong.”

They hurry away.

“Were they bothering you, Yahaba-san?” Akaashi asks quietly. He follows Oikawa to his locker, where Oikawa shoves his bag in with a bit more force than usual.

“Not particularly. I appreciate the concern, though, Aka-chan!”

Akaashi sighs. “Iwaizumi-san told me he’s meeting you for lunch today,” he says. “I’ll let you off a little early.”

Oikawa blinks in surprise at his boss’s kindness. “But, you let me off early yesterday too-,” he begins, now genuinely feeling bad about it. Just because he’s an assassin doesn’t mean he’s a heartless worker.

“It’s fine, Yahaba-san. Just make sure you work extra hard on this shift.” Akaashi gives him a soft smile.

“Thank you, Akaashi-chan.”

Customers come and go. Oikawa makes sure to give them his best smile, one Kuroo has called his ‘heart-stabber’ smile. He’s never done this before (probably) but by the end of his shift, he’s got the best tips out of the other workers, which makes him want to smirk.

He also wants to die.

His heart has been pounding since the second half of his shift, knowing that with each minute he’s a moment closer to seeing Iwaizumi again. He wants to see him, he does, but at the same time, he dreads it. He dreads it with his whole being.

His dream replays in his mind as he cleans a table in the far corner of the cafe.

_Can I come over tonight?_

_Nee-chan needs me to pick Takeru up._

_I’ll meet you at your house later?_

_Stop acting like we’re never going to see each other again._

_I’ll see you tonight, Bakakawa._

_He doesn’t._

His hands are shaking. He swallows hard against his throat, closing his eyes for a moment. _He doesn’t see Iwaizumi ever again._

“Are you all right?”

A voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he looks up to see the pair from the next table over looking at him with worry. The one who’d spoken has silvery-grey hair, despite having a young face, and a beauty mark beside his right eye. He’s rather pretty, Oikawa notes, and after scanning the dark-haired, sturdy-looking man opposite him, figures that the two are dating. Their body language makes it obvious. “I’m fine, thank you! Excuse me for acting silly.” He forces a giggle, gives a quick bow, and makes his way back behind the counter, cleaning towel in hand.

He doesn’t hear the dark-haired one say, “He looked familiar,” and the other one agree.

“Yahaba-san,” Akaashi calls, after he’s put away some of the dirty dishes (he hates this part of his job the most). “You’re free to go now, if you like.”

“I-” Oikawa looks at the clock. His pulse is still unsteady in his chest, hands still shaking by his sides. “Okay! Thanks, Aka-chan!”

As he makes his way to the locker room, Akaashi calls, “And you don’t need to be nervous.”

He has to force down the blush making its way through his cheeks.

After he’s changed, he gets a text from Iwaizumi saying he’s waiting outside. Oikawa bites his lip, takes a deep breath. _Don’t be sick don’t be sick please please don’t be sick_

He makes his way out from the side entrance and heads to the front. He sees Iwaizumi before Iwaizumi sees him.

He looks good, as always. He’s wearing the same black coat as yesterday, and though from this angle it’s hard to make out his shirt, Oikawa can see his skinny jeans. They seem to fit him nicely, perfectly accentuating the curves of his calves.

“Iwa-chan,” he calls, smiling. Somehow, he doesn’t have to plaster the smile on his face; it just comes naturally. The businessman turns to him in surprise, eyes widening before his face also softens into a smile. Oikawa feels his heart clench.

Ah, fuck. Should he really feel this way about someone he’s just met and is also his target? But then again, he really hasn’t _just_ met Iwaizumi, has he?

“Yahaba-san,” Iwaizumi says, meeting him halfway. His cheeks and ears are red, but Oikawa figures it’s from the cold. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Iwa-chan!” It really is.

“The restaurant we’re going to is this way.” He puts a hand on the small of Oikawa’s back and Oikawa _swears_ flames spring up at the touch. “It’s not that grand, is that okay?”

“Of course it is!” Oikawa beams at him as they make their way down the street. “So, Iwa-chan, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Mmm.” _Approach this carefully, Tooru._ “Tell me about your childhood!”

Beside him, Iwaizumi stiffens and his hand falls away from Oikawa’s back.

So much for _carefully._

“Oh, um, sorry, I didn’t mean to be so forward-”

“No, no, it’s fine. I, uh, don’t feel comfortable talking about that yet.” He offers an awkward smile to Oikawa. “Ask me another question.”

“Um... So how’d you become the owner of Ace Pharmaceuticals?”

“You don’t know? My father died, and left the company to me in his will.”

Oikawa jolts. “Ah, shit, I have a bad taste in topic, huh?”

Something in Iwaizumi seems to relax a little, surprisingly. Oikawa’s not quite sure why. He gives a small laugh. “It’s okay. It was ten years ago, anyway.”

 _Ten years ago._ Oikawa had lost his memory ten years ago too.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, despite the fact his mind’s whirring. Could his father’s death and Oikawa’s memory loss be related...? No, no, that’s not possible.

Iwaizumi smiles again, wider this time. “Thank you,” he says. “Everybody thought I wouldn’t be able to cope, you know, as an eighteen year old taking over a huge business. But it wasn’t like I didn’t know anything about my father’s job, you know? And I...” Iwaizumi hesitates. “I had support.”

Did something crack in Iwaizumi voice, right then?

Suddenly, Oikawa wonders if this Iwaizumi really is the same person that’s been appearing in his dreams. Would a person, a teen, who’d possibly just lost a friend and a father, really be able to take on all the responsibility that such a huge corporation had held?

 _Even if he’s not the Iwa-chan I’ve seen,_ Oikawa thinks, _there’s no way he’s not strong._

He would be lying, if he said he didn’t admire this man even a little.

“What about you, Yahaba-san? You’re a part timer at Owl’s Coffee, right? Is there anything you do outside of that?”

 _Fuck._ “Oh... I actually have another job,” Oikawa lies, as smoothly as he can. “I’m a self-defense instructor.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen. “Really? That’s impressive.”

“You think so?” Oikawa grins. Well, it’s not _wrong,_ exactly... He does teach some of the other cadets fighting techniques, sometimes... “There’s actually a surprising amount of people who want to learn. Some people just enjoy it, and some people are afraid of not knowing how to defend themselves.” He’s making this up, but he also thinks he’s right, in a way.

Iwaizumi nods along to his words. “I understand,” he says, and suddenly there’s something unreadable in his expression. “I’ve learned a little self-defense myself, though I haven’t used those techniques in a while. Maybe you could show me some of your techniques, sometime?”

Oikawa blinks, and this time he can’t push down the warmth that rises to his face. He hopes it just looks like he’s cold, or something. “That sounds good,” he agrees. Iwaizumi grins.

“Ah, this is it.”

It’s a pretty nice place. It looks fancy, but not to the point that Oikawa feels the need to rush back to the hotel and find smarter clothes. On the inside, people move around and chat, smiles on their faces, food on their plates. The smell of freshly-cooked food lingers in the air.

Oikawa feels like he’s been here before.

That can’t be right though. It looks fairly new, and definitely not older than ten years.

So what’s this horrible feeling he’s getting in his stomach?

“Looks good, Iwa-chan!” He’s trying to sound cheery, and he really doesn’t know if it’s working.

“Shall we go inside?”

Oikawa winks, despite the churning in his stomach. “After you,” he says, holding the door open. Iwaizumi just raises an eyebrow and goes in.

Oikawa steps inside.

A wave of nostalgia hits him, not weak enough to prevent him from being dizzy, but not strong enough to make him sick, thankfully. He follows after Iwaizumi silently, who tells the waitress at the desk his name and that he’s got a reservation.

_Deep breaths, Tooru. Deep breaths._

He wonders if it would be bad manners to bail out now.

_“I’m going to meet Iwaizumi. I’m going to become friends with him. And I’m going to find out what the fuck’s wrong with me.”_

No, he can’t leave now. He _has_ to know.

So he follows Iwaizumi to their table, praying that he won’t be sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR BEING MEAN TO OIKAWA


	4. lying through one's teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd post early again, in commemoration of oikawa's birthday....  
> //hides bc i didn't do anything for iwa-chan's birthday which i deeply regret  
> as a result, you might get the next chapter a lil late next week, but we'll see :3  
> i feel like a lot of this chapter is kind of pointless chatter, but you do get a bit of iwaizumi's life post-highschool.

“Yahaba-san? Have you decided what to order?”

“Huh? Oh.”

Oikawa blinks up at Iwaizumi and the waitress. “W-Would you like me to come back later, Iwaizumi-san?” she asks, all jitters and nervousness, but cute all the same.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Oikawa says quickly. He gives her a smile and scans the menu quickly, coming to rest on the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ll just have this, then.”

“All right...” The waitress scribbles down his order in her notebook, hand shaking slightly. “One teriyaki udon. Iwaizumi-san, you want the same as usual, right?”

“That’s right, Yachi-chan.” Iwaizumi gives her a kind smile. She blushes.

“T-Thank you!” she says, and hurries off to the kitchen.

Oikawa leans forwards, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. “What’s your usual?” he asks, feeling a little less dizzy than before.

Iwaizumi looks at him with an unreadable expression for a few moments, searching his face quietly, before finally, he says, “Agedashi tofu, white rice, and this spicy salmon they have that’s really nice. Oh, and I usually get jasmine tea, too. I ordered miso soup for us as well, earlier.” Iwaizumi’s expression tells Oikawa he knows Oikawa hadn’t been listening when he’d ordered it.

“Eh...” Oikawa considers the man before him for a moment. “Can you afford all that?”

Iwaizumi stares at him, looking shocked.

Oikawa bursts into giggles, covering his face with his hands as he laughs outright. “Oh, my god,” he stutters, “your face, _right there._ ”

“I-It wasn’t that funny!” Iwaizumi says, going red in the face. Oikawa grins at him.

“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan, I _do_ know that you’re the head of Ace Pharmaceuticals.” A waiter comes by and passes them a pot of tea, setting out small, ceramic cups for them. Another sets the miso soup in front of them.

Oikawa picks up his spoon, spinning it lightly in his hand. “Agedashi tofu,” he muses. Iwaizumi opens his mouth, but before he can say anything else, Oikawa murmurs, “That’s your favourite, right?”

They both freeze.

How the _fuck_ does Oikawa know that?

“How’d you know that?” Iwaizumi asks, his bowl of miso soup forgotten. He’s staring at Oikawa intensely, but Oikawa doesn’t miss the sliver of pain in his eyes.

“Oh, uh-” _Quick, make something up._ “Aka-chan told me.” He gives Iwaizumi his biggest, fakest, smile. Iwaizumi imperceptibly flinches.

“I see,” he says. He picks up his own spoon. “Yeah,” and his voice is quieter than before, “it’s my favourite.”

Oikawa feels like his heart is going to spill out his throat as well as all his lies. He wishes his memories would join them so that he would finally see them.

“What’s your favourite?” Iwaizumi asks, and somehow, it feels like a challenge. A test.

Oikawa swallows. “I’ve always enjoyed shoyu ramen,” he says, thinking of the first thing that comes to mind. He doesn’t have a favourite food. He thinks he probably used to like sweet things, before he lost his memory, but he doesn’t have the same itching for them now.

Is it disappointment or relief he sees on Iwaizumi’s face? “Good choice,” he says. “I like shoyu ramen, too. It’s probably my favourite ramen.”

“Really?” Oikawa feels like he knows that, too. He hates that feeling. He smiles. “I guess we’re the same, Iwa-chan!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Iwaizumi says, smiling as well.  “Maybe next time we should go to a ramen house, instead.”

“Good idea!” Oikawa doesn’t even question the _next time_ as he beams at Iwaizumi. In return, Iwaizumi flushes.

“I mean, if you don’t mind having a next time-,” he stutters.

“Of course I don’t.” Oikawa sips his soup, letting the warmth flood his mouth.

“B-But, not as a date, if that makes you uncomfortable-”

“Iwaizumi.” Oikawa reaches over and grasps his hand to calm him down. The nervousness is kind of cute, though. “It’s _fine._ ”

“Okay.”

“So, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa begins, withdrawing his hand despite the voice at the back of his mind telling him to keep it there, “what are your hobbies? I feel like, as your new friend, I should know what you like.” _Other than agedashi tofu,_ his mind oh-so-helpfully supplies.

“I don’t have many hobbies anymore,” Iwaizumi says, gently stirring his soup. He takes a sip. “In highschool, I used to play volleyball a lot. Those were... some of the best days of my life.”

There’s an aching longing and a throbbing pain in Iwaizumi’s voice. It’s easy to miss, barely there under the false cheer. But Oikawa can hear it. “Volleyball, huh?” Oikawa hums, his mind flashing back to the previous day, when he’d been looking at Akaashi and Bokuto’s profiles with Kuroo. He also thinks about that time on the roof, when he’d remembered dragging someone, Iwaizumi, to the volleyball club as a child. “I’d like to try it, I think.”

“You’ve never played?” Iwaizumi isn’t watching him. Instead, he’s staring at his soup. Oikawa considers the other man quietly. He doesn’t think it would be a good idea to answer, _I’m not sure because I lost my memory ten years ago and the only thing I can really remember is you._

“No,” Oikawa says. “Is it fun?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi reaches for his tea. “It was a lot of fun. I made some really good friends through volleyball.”

“Did you meet Aka-chan and Bokuto-chan through volleyball too?” Oikawa has finished his soup now and is looking at an empty bowl. He thinks he knows the answer to his own question.  If his sudden flashback from the previous day was right, then they probably went to Fukurodani or Nekoma, and not wherever it was Iwaizumi went. An image of a sports jersey flashes in his mind, white and teal, the number four etched onto the back along with the kanji for _Aoba Johsai._ _I guess that’s where I went to school,_ Oikawa thinks unfeelingly.

“No,” Iwaizumi says. “I met them when I went to university.” There’s a pause, and Iwaizumi smiles as Oikawa looks up. “They were very good to me. Though, they do play volleyball as well. If you’re interested in volleyball, we could always go to the gym, the four of us.”

“That’d be fun,” Oikawa says, sipping his tea now. “Though I don’t know about playing with my bosses...”

Iwaizumi laughs. It’s warm, deep and rough and very, very familiar. “Don’t worry, they’re very casual. Bokuto’s a bit excitable but Akaashi sort of grounds him, you know?”

Oikawa nods. He had gotten that kind of feel from them. “They’re together, aren’t they?”

Iwaizumi eyes him over the rim of his tea. Oikawa distantly notes that he still hasn’t finished his soup. “You’re very observant, aren’t you?” He puts his cup down. “Yes, they’ve been together since highschool, I believe. They seem like an odd combination, but...” Iwaizumi shrugs, and to Oikawa’s shock, a faint flush tints the tips of his ears and neck. “I’ve seen stranger.”

Oikawa leans his cheek on his hand, grinning a little. “Like what?” he asks.

Iwaizumi pauses. There’s that same pain in his eyes, but his smile is genuine. Different, somehow from the ones he’s given Oikawa before. Like he’s thinking about something happy. “When I was in highschool,” he says, “there were two people dating who seemed pretty opposite. One was pretty cheerful and flirtatious on the outside, popular with the girls, though he was kind of a dumbass on the inside.” He smiles wider, softer. “The other guy seemed more steady and serious. He was always stopping the other guy from doing stupid things, like overworking himself.” Iwaizumi shrugs. “They were a good match, though.”

Oikawa smirks. “I didn’t know you were a romantic, Iwa-chan!”

“H-Hey!” His blush deepens. “I’m not a romantic?”

“Really?” Oikawa says, fluttering his lashes a little. Iwaizumi glowers, but Oikawa is spared from any retribution as right then, a waitress comes over with their food. It’s the same waitress that had taken their order. Yachi, or something like that.

“Here you go, Iwaizumi-san,” she says, still looking a little nervous. Iwaizumi sends her a kind smile.

“Thank you, Yachi-chan. Give my regards to Shimizu, will you?” he says. The blonde blushes deeper at the name. Oikawa’s eyes narrow a little.

“O-Of course, Iwaizumi-san. Um, actually, she said she wanted to talk to you afterwards,” Yachi says, averting her gaze.

“Really?” Iwaizumi frowns a little, then nods. “Okay. You don’t mind, do you, Yahaba-san?”

Oikawa blinks up at the sound of his fake-name. “No, of course not.” He waves a hand, smiling a little. As Yachi turns to leave, he winks at her. She blushes even deeper.

When Oikawa looks back at Iwaizumi, he’s scowling. “Don’t flirt with the waitresses,” Iwaizumi grumbles as he picks up his chopsticks.

Oikawa giggles quietly. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says, smirking a little. “I think she likes someone else.”

Iwaizumi jerks up to look at him, the tofu pinched between chopsticks forgotten. “W-What?” he says, eyes wide.

“It was Shimizu, right? The name.” Oikawa grins.

“Holy shit,” Iwaizumi says. “You really are observant.” He shakes his head, bringing the tofu to his bowl of rice. Oikawa picks up his own chopsticks with a smile. “That’s impressive. I’ve never been that great at figuring people out.”

“Really? You seem like the type to understand people.”

“Well, I get my friends and some of my workers, but I’ve never been able to just know about a stranger.” Iwaizumi grins. “I’ve not needed that skill since highschool.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Oikawa says as he picks up some of his udon. “You said you went to university. Does that mean you were balancing school work and a company at the same time?”

“Yep.” Iwaizumi shakes his head, a rueful smile on his face. “I’m so glad those days are over.”

“Talk about impressive,” Oikawa says. Not for the first time, he wonders why anyone would want to kill Iwaizumi Hajime. From what Oikawa can tell (barring his bizarre memories), Iwaizumi is kind and smart. He’s clearly managed the company well despite starting from such a young age and having to deal with a university workload on top of that.

But there are always jealousies, he supposes.

Iwaizumi grins. “I had lots of help,” he says. “My professors were quite understanding, and within the company I had a lot of people to help guide me.”

For a few moments, the two of them eat in silence. Then, Iwaizumi says, “What about you, Yahaba-san? Did you go to university?”

Unless Oikawa was some kind of genius and went to university when he was like 15, he did not go to university. After all, he’d woken up as a eighteen year old on the banks of the Yellow River. “No,” he says, inserting a hint of regret into his tone. “When I was eighteen, I joined the family business-” Ah, he’s bullshitting so hard right now, “-which was weapons crafting.” He shrugs. “That’s how I got into self-defense, too.”

“Weapons crafting, huh? Like swords and such?”

 _No, mostly guns, but also throwing knives and easy-to-subtly-kill-people-with weapons._ “Yeah,” he says. “It sounds a bit weird, but that was what we did. Sometimes we made things like kendo shinai or fencing swords.

“That actually sounds pretty interesting.” Iwaizumi has finished his tofu and is onto his salmon. Oikawa hasn’t been eating much of his udon. He looks down at it, because he doesn’t feel hungry. But if he doesn’t eat, Iwaizumi might ask questions, so... He picks up some more between his chopsticks.

“It was okay,” he says somewhat absentmindedly. “I enjoy what I do now a lot more, though.”

Oikawa sure has been doing a lot of lying today.

After they finish their meal, Oikawa waits by the entrance as Iwaizumi talks to the woman standing at the front desk. If that’s Shimizu, he’s not surprised by Yachi’s reaction to her name; the woman is undoubtedly beautiful. He looks down and so doesn’t see how her gaze flicks to him for a few moments, before looking back at Iwaizumi.

There’s a buzz from his phone. Oikawa pulls it out of his pocket, and when he switches it on he realises it’s from Kuroo.

_> > Found something. You’re not gonna like it._

_> > also, are you planning on telling iwaizumi that you think you know him?_

Oikawa’s fingers hesitate over the keyboard. _Is_ he planning on telling him? He looks up at the businessman, who’s still engrossed in his conversation with probably-Shimizu. Oikawa’s noticed the pain in Iwaizumi’s eyes when he talks about things related to highschool. Yet, other than that, he’s never given any indication that he’s lost someone. Oikawa doesn’t even know if his memories are for real.

He’s never felt so fucking insecure and unsure in his life.

(Probably; he _has_ lost his memory, after all.)

Oikawa looks back down on his screen. _< < no, not yet. I want to figure out what happened to me and if it’s related to him first_

_> > ok. I think that’s a good move. I’ll see you when you get back._

Oikawa clicks off his phone just as Iwaizumi finishes his conversation.

“Sorry about that,” he says, walking over. There’s something troubled in his gaze, but Oikawa decides to ignore it.

“It’s okay, Iwa-chan!” He winks. “I know you treasure your time with me anyway.”

Iwaizumi stops. Considers him. “You have a terrible personality,” he decides, and proceeds to walk out the restaurant after a wave to Yachi and Shimizu. Oikawa’s mouth drops open and he follows him quickly.

“So rude! And when you consider _you’re_ the one who wanted to be friends,” he says, catching up to Iwaizumi quickly. Iwaizumi grins.

Oikawa doesn’t get any more flash backs or dizzy feelings for the rest of the time he spends with Iwaizumi. He’s partly grateful, but also somewhat disappointed. He wants to know about his life. The yearning won’t go away anymore.

When they part ways at the train station, Iwaizumi gets a call. He turns away from Oikawa, who had been just about to start walking back to the hotel. The sudden darkness in Iwaizumi’s expression and spitting voice, however, makes him halt for a moment, walking slower than he usually would.

“I don’t need your fucking opinion about this, Kurosawa,” Iwaizumi hisses. “Look, I appreciate what you’ve done for me all these years, but this is something I really shouldn’t need to repeat. You need to _keep looking._ ”

Oikawa doesn’t hear anything else over the sudden blast of wind and the fact that he’s walked farther away now. When he glances over his shoulder, Iwaizumi’s shoving his phone in his pocket. He glances up at Oikawa, and they smile at each other before Oikawa hurries back to the hotel.

He wonders what he overheard.

He wonders why the name _Kurosawa_ fills him with dread.

***

“Welcome back,” Kuroo drawls from his place on the second desk, laptop out in front of him. He spins in his chair as Oikawa heads straight towards him, stopping only to take off his scarf.

“What did you find?” Oikawa asks, pulling the other chair over. “And why am I not going to like it?”

Kuroo turns to his computer. He clicks on a PDF file, opening it up. Oikawa squints. “Is that a coroner’s report?”

“Yep.” Kuroo half-closes over his laptop screen for a moment and peers seriously at Oikawa as Oikawa clucks his tongue in irritation. “You know how Irihata found you ten years ago?”

“Yes?” Oikawa is getting more and more suspicious.

“Don’t you find it strange,” Kuroo says, his expression incredibly serious, “how Iwaizumi’s father died ten years ago? Shortly before Irihata found you?”

“What are you saying, Kuroo?” A dozen scenarios flash through Oikawa’s head. _Maybe I killed him and I was so traumatized by the event that I forgot it and maybe I should stop reading books._

“I’m saying they might be related. Look.” Kuroo opens up his computer again. “This is the coroner’s report for Iwaizumi’s death.”

“A heart attack. So?”

“Look at the signature and the handwriting.”

Oikawa looks at it. “Kuroo, just get to the point,” he says.

“This is report was filed by Sawato Masaru. And this is his _real_ signature and handwriting.” Kuroo clicks on another tab, which is another coroner’s report by the same coroner. Kuroo points to the signature on this document. “It’s hard to tell, but they’re different.”

Oikawa blinks. If he were anyone but Kuroo’s long time friend, he would have scoffed, said, _they look exactly the same, how can you tell?_ But Oikawa knows Kuroo. And Kuroo has a damned good eye for this kind of thing. “Are you sure?” he asks softly.

Kuroo nods. “It’s a very good forgery,” he says. “So that leaves the question of why someone made a fake report.”

“Ah.” Oikawa feels something rushing in his blood. “Someone probably killed him, and then covered it up.”

“It doesn’t help when you see _this._ ” Kuroo opens another page, a newspaper article from ten years ago. “Sawato Masaru was found dead in an alley a week after Iwaizumi’s death, from a drug overdose.”

“A drug overdose,” Oikawa echoes, eyebrow raised.

“No one asked any questions because Sawato did have a track record with drugs. But that was when he was twenty. He was forty when he died.” Kuroo leans back in his chair. “Awfully suspicious, am I right?”

“So basically,” Oikawa says, “Iwaizumi-san was probably killed, someone faked the coroner’s report, then killed the coroner to cover it up?”

“Probably,” Kuroo says.

“Ah, fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh brief-scary iwa-chan this chapter...  
> kuroo would be a great detective, we all know it.  
> [cherryboy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryboy/pseuds/cherryboy) suggested to me to put in some more assassin!oikawa, and i think i might do that next chapter... what do you guys think?? im not sure how i'll work it in but im sure i can ;0


	5. whole-hearted refusal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh im over three weeks late... lmao....... ///sorry everyone  
> i forgot to mention!! oikawa/kuroo's assassin boss, irihata, is **not** irihata nobuteru, the seijou coach...  
>  i wanted to make this chapter longer because i know what i want to do next but it would take me way too long to write it + it'd be quite long which isn't my style and i was already super late as it was so here i am with a cut-short chapter :'D next chapter, i promise there'll be some assassin oikawa.

The email is sitting there, taunting him.

Oikawa doesn’t want to read it. If there’s one thing he hates, it’s disappointment.

He swallows against his throat, avoiding looking at the little preview of text that Google mail so helpfully provides.

“Hey, Oikawa, I’m back-What are you doing?”

“Questioning my life choices,” Oikawa responds to Kuroo, who dumps the groceries on the table and walks over, peering curiously at the screen. Then, he flinches.

“Oh, shit.”

“Yup.”

They sit there, staring at each other.

“If you don’t read it, he’ll be even more pissed off.”

“But if I do read it, something very bad could happen. You know, like, _really_ bad.”

“I’ll read it. You’re a wimp.”

“Fuck you too, Kuroo.”

Kuroo grins and pushes Oikawa’s chair aside. Oikawa closes his eyes as he begins to hear clicking coming from the mouse.

“Oh. Oh, _shit._ ”

“What?” Oikawa demands, still unwilling to open his eyes.

“Open your eyes, Oikawa. We’re in this shitpile together, now.”

Oikawa opens his eyes.

 _Oikawa_.

_I’m coming to meet you two at your hotel. I hope you have an explanation ready._

“We’re dead,” Oikawa whispers.

“I thought you explained it to him,” Kuroo says, turning to glare at Oikawa, who coughs.

“Not quite,” he says, clicking on his _Sent_ mail. He opens his latest email to Irihata, and points at it. “I didn’t feel like giving an explanation.”

_Irihata-san,_

_I didn’t kill Iwaizumi Hajime. I have my reasons. I need time. Think of it as taking my long-overdue holiday._

“You’re an idiot,” Kuroo whispers, his eyes wide. For a moment, Oikawa thinks they may be overreacting a little. But then he remembers how Irihata is when he’s angry, and decides that no, they’re being very realistic here.

“I thought he’d be okay with it,” Oikawa says, raising his hands defensively. The blood is rushing in his ears, and he feels rather dizzy. “He never said there was a time limit.”

Kuroo shakes his head, flopping onto his bed with a groan, eyes closing. “You’d better get an explanation ready, Oikawa.”

Oikawa bites his lip. “I’ll just tell him the truth.”

Kuroo’s eyes don’t open. “You’re stupid.”

“What other choice do we have?” Oikawa asks, sighing. He closes his laptop slowly, leaning back in his chair. “What time do you think he’s going to be here?”

There’s a knock on the door.

They look at each other. “Now,” Kuroo says. Slowly, he heads towards the door as Oikawa rushes around hiding evidence of their ‘investigation’. He feels a vague sense of _something_ filter through him, kicking his pulse faster and faster. He gets the feeling that no, it’s not fear of Irihata. It’s fear of being forced to leave and losing his only connection to his past.

Oikawa tucks away his fake ID just as Kuroo opens the door. Plastering an innocent smile on his face, he greets his senior as the man steps inside, dark eyes stone-cold and narrowed sharply.

“Oikawa, Kuroo,” he says in reply, inclining his head only slightly as Kuroo closes the door behind him. “It’s good to see you’re both in good health. Of course, that makes me wonder _why the fuck_ you haven’t finished your job.”

Oikawa winces. Straight to the point, as always. Behind Irihata, Kuroo only gives a crooked smile, locking eyes with Oikawa. They have an intense staring match before Oikawa finally relents with a sigh. “I know him,” he says. “I know Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Irihata narrows his eyes. “What do you mean, you _know him_?”

“I mean,” Oikawa says, taking a step forwards, “I know him from before.”

Irihata falls silent. “From before you lost your memory, you mean.”

“Yes.”

Irihata seems to consider this as Oikawa fidgets, fingers digging into his jeans. _Maybe Irihata will let me off, just this once,_ he thinks. _Maybe he’ll cancel the job, he’s done it before-_

“I’ll give you two more days,” Irihata says. “If he’s not dead by the end of Friday, I’m taking you both off the job and getting someone else to do it.”

The blood freezes in his veins.

_And maybe I’m destined to jinx myself._

 “Irihata-san,” Kuroo begins, but he is cut off abruptly.

“No objections,” Irihata barks. “I know you might think this is important to you, Oikawa, but in the end it’s only going to hurt you. Not only that, but this is our biggest job in a while. Don’t fucking screw it up any more.” He gives them a sharp look. “Two more days. Am I clear?”

Oikawa feels his face curl up into a sneer. “Crystal,” he says, wishing he could punch him.

“Crystal,” Kuroo agrees, but he’s sending Oikawa a warning look over Irihata’s shoulder. _Stay calm_ , it seems to be saying. Oikawa wishes he could. He’s pissed as fuck. He’s finally found a link to his past, someone who might know who he is, and Irihata is telling him to _kill him_. After so damn long, he’s got _something_ to hold onto.

So, Irihata can go _fuck himself._

But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he smiles sweetly. Coldly. Irihata turns to leave, and as he opens the door, he looks over his shoulder. “Two days,” he repeats, gaze piercing, before he disappears out into the hallway.

 “So,” Kuroo says.

“It’s not happening,” Oikawa snaps back. Kuroo’s face slices up into a smirk.

“Oh, good. I was hoping that you’d say that.”

Oikawa huffs, stalking over to his suitcase. He slams the lid open, pulls out a dagger and two throwing knives. “Iwa-chan’s _not_ going to die,” he hisses.

Kuroo grabs ahold of his arm. “Hold it there, superman,” he says. “First, we have to figure out a plan.”

“We put surveillance on Iwa-chan twenty-four-seven,” Oikawa suggests, yanking his arm out of Kuroo’s grip.

“Oh, yeah? And how’s your Iwa-chan going to react to that?”

Oikawa pauses. Sighs. As he drops his weapons back in his suitcase, Kuroo heads towards his laptop. “I might be able to get myself a position in Iwaizumi’s security somehow,” Kuroo says, smirking a little. “One of my old classmates appears to be on his security team. Maybe I can convince them to get me a spot.”

“And maybe they’ll find you suspicious and will report you to the police.”

“Aw, don’t be such a downer.” Kuroo grins. “ _You_ , make plans with your Iwa-chan for two days time. That’s Friday.”

“Yeah, I know the days of the week, thanks _so much,_ Kuro-chan.”

“You’re welcome.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes, kicking Kuroo’s seat lightly as he reaches for his phone. Then, he pauses. “Wait, Irihata gave us ‘till the end of Friday, right?”

Kuroo nods.

“So... how the fuck do I make plans for twelve am on Saturday?”

Kuroo stills. Then, he slams his hand on the table and yells a very loud ‘ _fuck!’_ for the whole floor to hear. They’re both silent for a few moments, contemplating possibilities. There’s a very obvious one, but Oikawa burns just thinking about it and Kuroo has the intelligence to know not to bring it up, lest he gets punched in the face. “Um,” Kuroo says, “bar-hopping?”

Oikawa raises an eyebrow at him. “Would a billionaire, who can easily buy the best beer in town, really want to go bar-hopping with someone he just met?”

“You think of something then!” Kuroo groans, leaning back in the chair. “Ugh, all this talk of beer makes me thirsty. Oikawa, get the beer from the fridge.”

Oikawa raises his eyebrow again. “You are aware that alcohol only makes you _more_ thirsty, right?” he asks, already heading to the mini-fridge.

“Do I look like I currently give a fuck?”

“You never look like you give a fuck, Kuro-chan.” Oikawa tosses him one of the bottles. Kuroo smoothly catches it without even looking. “Show-off.”

“You’re one to talk,” Kuroo answers, popping the cap off. A pinging sound rings throughout the room and Kuroo leans forward in his seat. A triumphant smile etches across his face. “I’m amazing,” Kuroo announces (Oikawa snorts in response). “My ex-classmate says there’s actually an open spot on the security team.”

“But?” Oikawa asks.

“Why do you assume there’s a ‘but’?”

“Anyone who hired you without questions would be fucking stupid, Kuro-chan.”

“Wow. That one hurt my feelings.”

Oikawa smirks. “So?” he prompts.

“She says that if I want the job I have to go to an interview tomorrow.” Kuroo sighs. “That sounds fun.”

Oikawa is silent for a few moments. Then, he says, “You know, Kuroo, you really don’t have to do this-”

“Quit while you’re ahead, Oikawa. I’m doing it. Think of it as me paying you back for seven years ago.”

Oikawa falls silent. Then, he says quietly, “Eight years. It was eight years ago.”

“Eight years ago _fucking sucked._ ”

“Yeah, it really did.”

***

Later, when they’re both lying in bed and Kuroo’s breaths have become deep and even, Oikawa realises they never came up with a plan to protect Iwaizumi properly.

He reaches for his phone and uses the first idea that comes to mind.

***

_“Kill him.”_

_killhimkillhimkillhimKILLHIM_

Oikawa jerks awake in the dark of the room, his feet kicking the covers half-off the bed. His neck and collarbone are slick with sweat, and the blood’s pounding through his veins, hard and fast and _fearful._

He puts a hand over his heart, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Already, the dream – no, the _nightmare_ – is fading from his mind, and all he can remember is the icy cold terror that swept into his veins. Reaching for his phone, he forces himself to calm.

He hopes he never feels that kind of fear again.

The bright numbers that read _05:06_ help him focus. He’s about to put his phone down when a message notification catches his eye; Iwaizumi’s reply to his message.

_> > That sounds good. I’m working late Friday, but we can sort something out._

A smile forms on Oikawa’s face before he can stop it.

                _< < really?? you want to?_

The reply is instantaneous.

_> > Yes I do. I haven’t had a lazy night in a while._

_ << yay! oh, i’ve also got a late night shift on friday._

_> > I’ll pick you up from the cafe. When does your shift end?_

_ << eight, i think. Where will we go to watch?_

_> > you can come to mine. It’s easiest._

Oikawa sends an ‘okay!’ and a ‘thank you’ before he switches his phone off again. In the bed beside him, Kuroo shuffles around.

“You look happy,” he says, voice rough with sleep, eyes squinting in the darkness. Oikawa starts, turning to look at Kuroo with surprise.

“You’re awake,” Oikawa says. “Do I really look that happy?”

“No,” Kuroo says, shuffling some more in the bed. “But I can tell.”

Oikawa says nothing in reply to that.

***

 

“Ne, Aka-chan?”

“What is it, Yahaba-san?”

Oikawa puts down the sugar packet he’d found lying on the counter. Akaashi is adding cakes to their display, the cafe calm and quiet. “How long have you and Bokuto-chan been together?”

Akaashi blinks in surprise, his hand slowly lowering. “Since my last year of highschool, and his first year in university. Why do you ask, Yahaba-san?”

“Ah, I was just wondering.” Oikawa gives Akaashi a smile. He genuinely likes his co-worker; Akaashi is hard working and patient and can make surprisingly good jokes. “You two seem a bit opposite,” he remarks, before hastily adding, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course!”

Akaashi makes a smile close to a grin. “I think we complement each other well,” he says, putting the last of the cakes in the display.

“I think so too,” Oikawa says, remembering his meeting with Iwaizumi two days ago. He wonders who Iwaizumi was talking about, when he mentioned the couple other from Akaashi and Bokuto.

“Is there anything else, Yahaba-san?”

“Just one thing, Aka-chan.” Oikawa smiles again as Akaashi pauses by the door to the kitchen, tray tucked under his arm. “What kind of movies does Iwaizumi like?”

Faint surprise dusts Akaashi’s features, but then his eyes soften, his lips curving slightly. “Iwaizumi likes science fiction these days,” he says. “Usually alien-themed things. But action thrillers are a good choice, too.”

Oikawa blinks, feeling strangely surprised. He’s not entirely sure why; at least, until his mouth opens and he murmurs, “I thought he hated them.”

Thankfully, Akaashi is already in the kitchen when Oikawa is left reeling by the counter.

***

The rest of Oikawa’s shift passes without incident, a relief on his part. It’s a quiet Thursday morning, with most students in classes and adults at work. He does encounter one character, just before the end of his shift, a student named Tsukishima Kei, who sneers when Bokuto bounds up to him with a cheerful ‘ _Tsukki!’_ and rambunctious laughter.

“If you get any closer to me, Bokuto-san, I’ll pour coffee on you,” he says.

Bokuto pouts. “You’re always so cruel to me, Tsukki!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But, Tsukki-!”

“Bokuto-san, you’re being loud again,” comes Akaashi’s faintly scolding voice. Bokuto visibly deflates, and Tsukishima takes the opportunity to accept the coffee from Oikawa, who’s watching them with amusement.

“Here you go!” Oikawa says, bright and cheerful, flashing his megawatt smile at this deadpan customer. Tsukishima, who has the most piercing golden eyes he’s ever seen (bar Kuroo’s), looks up as he takes the coffee from Oikawa. When they meet eyes, something shifts in Tsukishima’s gaze. He takes his coffee slowly, eyes carefully studying Oikawa’s face. Oikawa continues to beam, forcing down the urge to flinch.

Why was he studying him like that?

“Is something wrong, Tsukishima-san?” Akaashi asks, his gaze flicking to Oikawa for a moment before moving back.

“No,” Tsukishima says, finally looking away from Oikawa. His gaze flits back a moment later, but it doesn’t focus on Oikawa’s face, merely glances at Oikawa’s nametag. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ll see you sometime, Akaashi-san.”

Akaashi nods in reply, brow still furrowed.

“Hey!” Bokuto yells as Tsukishima exits the shop. “Don’t I get a good-bye?!”

“You’re not worth the effort, Bokuto-san,” Tsukishima calls over his shoulder, smirking at Bokuto’s dropping jaw. The door’s almost closed, when-

“Oh, sorry about that,” drawls a familiar voice. Oikawa blinks in surprise when he spots Kuroo’s familiar bedhead through the window in the door. The door widens (Kuroo, pushing it open with his back) to show Tsukishima looking rather distastefully at him.

“Watch where you’re going next time,” Tsukishima says coldly, before walking away briskly.

Kuroo laughs, fully entering the shop, tie swinging along with part of his blazer. He’d worn the suit for the interview for the security position. “He was the one turning his head,” he murmurs, but there’s an interested glint in his eye.

 _Kuroo, no_ , Oikawa has time to think, before the other assassin is looking at Oikawa with a grin. “Hey, Oi- _Yahaba_ , I came to see when your shift ended and to maybe get some coffee.”

Oikawa fights the urge to sigh, merely raising an eyebrow at his friend as Bokuto and Akaashi watch with a lot of interest and very little interest respectively. “I’ve got-” Oikawa glances at the clock on the wall “-twenty minutes left, Kuroo. Can it wait?”

“Sure, honeybun,” Kuroo says, with an overly dramatic wink.

“...Really?”

“Really.”

“Ohoh,” Bokuto bursts in, sidling up to the counter with a huge grin. “I _love_ your hair.”

Oikawa feels the urge to check if Bokuto’s got a fever.

Kuroo blinks in surprise before his face also breaks into a large grin. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“That means so much to me! Your hair is pretty amazing too.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

The worst part is that Oikawa is fairly certain that they’re both being completely serious.

“What are you having to drink, Kuroo?” Oikawa prompts, impatient. Some of his co-workers are now glancing at the display between their boss and one messy-haired assassin-in-secret.

“You should know by now, Oi- _Yahaba!_ ” Kuroo’s (second) slip up doesn’t show on his face. “How long have we been together now?”

Akaashi and Bokuto’s eyes go wide.

In a biting tone, Oikawa says, “Try _never_ , Kuroo, considering we’re _not_ together.”

Kuroo laughs outright, his voice breaking through the semi-calm atmosphere. Luckily, most of the customers have left, and there’s only a few sitting in on their computers or reading. “You’re awfully loud,” Oikawa observes. “Something good happen?”

The sharp, bright smile Kuroo sends his way tells him _yes._ Oikawa smiles too. That means that Kuroo got the security job.

Oikawa’s not surprised.

Oikawa turns to prepare Kuroo’s drink. Behind him, he can hear Bokuto and Kuroo bonding (Oikawa feels like his brain cells are slowly dying) and almost doesn’t notice when Akaashi appears next to him. He gives a start when Akaashi hands him a packet of sugar with a neutral expression.

“Do you know Tsukishima?” he asks quietly as Oikawa stirs it into the coffee. Oikawa blinks, turning to look at Akaashi.

“Tsukishima? The blonde guy in here a few moments ago?” Oikawa gives a little hum, pretending he’s thinking about it, when really, he’s thinking, _I’ve lost my damn memory so I don’t fucking know._ “No, I don’t think so.” He grins. “How do you know him, Aka-chan?”

“Volleyball,” Akaashi answers.

All of a sudden Oikawa is barraged by an onslaught of memories: focused golden eyes behind black-rimmed glasses, meeting his gaze as the ball goes slamming to the floor; the threatening form of an 188cm tall blocker, high and powerful and silencing; the faint whir of the television amongst the sound of the audience’s shock when the ball, hit by one of the top three in the country, is shut down by a sharp-eyed first year middle blocker.

Oikawa doesn’t realise Akaashi had still been watching him until Akaashi turns away, the weighted gaze lifting from his face.

“Yaaaahaaabaaaa,” Kuroo calls from behind him. “You done yet?”

Oikawa wraps his shaking fingers around the cup of coffee, and plasters a smile to his face. “Be patient, Kuro-chan,” Oikawa says, but he knows his voice is too bright and cheery. Judging by the narrowing of his eyes, Kuroo knows it too. “I might just spill this coffee on you.”

“Wow, rude.” Kuroo takes it from him with a grin, but his eyes are worried and carefully searching Oikawa’s face. Oikawa gives a minute shake of his head and grins again. “I’ll wait here until you’re done.”

“See you in twenty minutes, Kuro-chan!”

“Can I call you Kuro-chan too?” Oikawa hears Bokuto asking Kuroo as he turns away.

“Only if you want to be like Yahaba!”

“Okay, then, I’ll come up with a different name.”

Oikawa snorts at that. _Rude._

He doesn’t notice Akaashi studying him carefully from the end of the counter. He doesn’t notice him, on his phone, looking at pictures of one _MISSING: OIKAWA TOORU._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the bit with tsukki in it was originally just an excuse to stick tsukki in the story (bc i love tsukki) but then it developed into something actually in the plot ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	6. bodily harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, look at the date... haha... //sweats nervously  
> im so sorry i apologise now and forever  
> please take this much longer chapter than normal as repayment (its double my usual wow)  
> i hope you will enjoy it :))))
> 
> also i don't know anything about fighting. or et.

“So, you got the job?”

Kuroo nods with a grin as Oikawa slides into the seat behind him, having just finished his shift. “I’m so skilled,” he announces, as if Oikawa didn’t know that already.

“Yeah, yeah, stop bragging. So, what happened?”

Kuroo grins wider. “It wasn’t an interview,” he said.

Oikawa blinks, raising an eyebrow. “It wasn’t an interview,” he repeats. “Then, what was it?”

“A fight.”

“A fight.” Oikawa’s just repeating Kuroo’s words now.

“Yep. They made us all fight each other, as well as some of the security team.”

“That’s... sure an interesting way of going about it. Is that legal?”

“Who cares? It’s not like we haven’t done illegal things before,” Kuroo says, and mimes firing a gun.

“Fair enough,” Oikawa concedes. He grins. “So, Kuro-chan, you kicked all of their asses?”

Kuroo smirks proudly. “Damn straight I did,” he says. “I mean, one or two put up a challenge, but guess who’s been a fucking pro for fifteen years? That’s right, _me_.”

“Thirteen years,” Oikawa corrected.

Kuroo leans forward. “Look me right in the eyes, Oikawa. Does this face look like it gives a fuck?”

“No need to be so rude, Kuro-chan,” Oikawa says, grinning.

Kuroo opens his mouth to reply, but then he stops abruptly, his eyebrows drawing togther. “Is that...?” he begins, eyes looking at something over Oikawa’s shoulder. Puzzled, Oikawa turns, just as Iwaizumi Hajime bursts into the cafe.

“Iwaizumi-san?” Akaashi says, observing his friend from the counter, surprise filtering through his voice.

“Ah, sorry, Akaashi. Is Yahaba-san still here?”

“Yes, he’s...” Akaashi turns, before smiling softly. “He’s over there.”

Oikawa barely remembers to smile and raise a hand in greeting through the sudden pounding of his heart. _Iwaizumi looks incredible in a suit_ , he notes distantly.

“Wow,” Kuroo mutters. “He’s even hotter in the flesh.”

“No flirting,” Oikawa has time to say before Iwaizumi comes within hearing range. “Hi, Iwa-chan!” he says, standing, smiling wide and bright at Iwaizumi, who blinks for a moment. “Did you really miss me that much?”

“Don’t be a dumbass,” Iwaizumi snaps, before his face morphs into something like mortification. “O-Oh, I’m terribly sorry, that just slipped out-”

In the back of his mind, Oikawa wonders why that had been Iwaizumi’s automatic response. But he doesn’t voice his thoughts, and only says, “Don’t worry about it, Iwa-chan! I know you were joking.” Oikawa adds a large, over-exaggerated wink to the end of his sentence, at which Iwaizumi looks torn between scowling and laughing. “Iwa-chan, this is Kuroo, a friend of mine.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Iwaizumi says, bowing. “My name is Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“I know,” Kuroo says with a grin. He stands and also bows. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.” Oikawa shoots Kuroo a sharp look, but his friend doesn’t look at him. “I’ve heard a lot about you, both from Oi- _Yahaba_ and the internet.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t seem to catch the slip up. He merely smiles. “Good things, I hope, but the internet isn’t very reliable these days.”

“No,” Kuroo agrees, eyes flashing with something like interest. “It isn’t.”

“So, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa interrupts. “What brings you here, looking for me?”

“Ah, I wanted to talk about tomorrow?”

 _Tomorrow?_ Kuroo mouthes. Oikawa ignores him. “Of course!” He beams. “What were you thinking?”

“Perhaps I could pick you up after your shift, and then we could go to the gym together?” Iwaizumi runs a hand through his hair, his smile somewhat bashful.

 _The gym?_ Kuroo mouthes, eyes now narrowed at Oikawa. Of course, Oikawa just ignores him again. “That’s fine, Iwa-chan!” He grins. “Don’t be too depressed when I beat you,” he adds.

Iwaizumi half-scoffs, half-smirks. “We’ll see,” he says. “Don’t cry when I win, okay?”

Kuroo makes an exaggerated shocked expression from behind Iwaizumi’s back. Oikawa taps ‘ _fuck you’_ in morse code onto the table as he smirks down at Iwaizumi. “Challenge accepted,” he says. Kuroo snickers silently and Oikawa taps even more vigorously on the table. Luckily, Iwaizumi doesn’t seem to notice.

“What time tomorrow, then?” he asks instead. There’s a buzz from his pocket, and as Iwaizumi pulls out his phone Oikawa says,

“Nine. Is that okay?”

He doesn’t get an answer, however, because Iwaizumi is staring at his phone, a tight expression on his face.

“Iwa-chan?” he prompts, noting how still Kuroo has gone behind Iwaizumi.

“What? Oh, sorry.” He flushes. “I just got a text. Um, what time was it you said?”

Brow furrowed, Oikawa repeats his answer. He locks eyes with Kuroo, whose gaze has gone shockingly sharp and calculating. He’s not looking at Iwaizumi, though, but at something behind Oikawa. Oikawa does not turn around.

“All right,” Iwaizumi says, smile slipping back onto his face, but it’s not as easy as before. “I’ll see then.”

“Yeah.” Oikawa watches, still utterly bewildered, as Iwaizumi spins on his heel, hurriedly walking out the shop. He doesn’t even look at Akaashi, who’s sitting behind the counter, glasses on, watching him leave with impassive eyes.

“Suspicious,” Kuroo says. Oikawa notes that he’s staring at Akaashi, and his fingers are twitching by his side, a tick that happens when he’s thinking hard.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says. He sits back down. “First of all, Kuro- _chan_ , you need to stop getting my name wrong! In front of other people!”

Kuroo’s gaze swings back to Oikawa, and a grin spreads on his face. “Sorry, Oi-Yahaba,” he says, doing it on purpose now. Oikawa glares.

“Kuro-chan,” he berates, and Kuroo laughs in response. “Second of all, why did you tell him your real name? Your real, _full_ name?”

“Why wouldn’t I, Oikawa?” The teasing glint is gone, but there’s something else in his gaze now.

“You know perfectly well why,” he hisses back. “Anything they can use to trace back to us-”

“Oikawa.” Kuroo waves a hand. “This isn’t a job. We’re not going to kill Iwaizumi Hajime. You said so yourself.”

“Yes, but-!”

“Oh, stop fretting, Oi-Yahaba. We can handle it.” Kuroo gives Oikawa a steady look. “Now, what the _fuck_ are you guys doing tomorrow?”

Oikawa scowls slightly at the change of subject (usually he tries not to frown as it marrs his pretty face) but concedes. “Iwa-chan and I are going out to the gym,” he says, beaming. “I told him I was a self-defense instructor, and he was interested in learning some new techniques.”

“Hah!” Kuroo slams a hand down on the table, shaking it and probably attracting the attention of the whole cafe. “You don’t have the patience!”

“Shut up!” Oikawa hisses, glancing around at the customers shooting them varied looks. Even Akaashi is looking over. “Don’t be so loud!”

Kuroo shakes his head, still snickering. “Can’t believe Iwaizumi bought it,” he says. “You’re not exactly the helpful teacher-type.”

“I’ll have you know I was the captain of my highschool volleyball team!” Oikawa says indignantly, before realising what he says.

Kuroo stops laughing.

“I do not know how I know that,” Oikawa says, his face fixed in a pleasant expression, before it crumbles.

Kuroo stands, hurrying around the table to put an arm around Oikawa. “C’mon,” he murmurs. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

Neither of them notice the impassive (but inquisitive on the inside) gaze Akaashi sets upon them as the exit the cafe.

***

_He becomes distantly aware of a faint, steady beeping. Over that, the pounding of his head filters through his vague thoughts. His eyes feel like they’ve been glued shut, and his lips feel dry and cracked. For a moment, he considers merely falling back asleep, unaware of the emptiness in the back of his mind._

_That’s when he becomes very distinctly aware of the fact that he doesn’t know where he is. Or, perhaps more importantly, he doesn’t really know_ anything.

_So he cracks his eyes open, fingers twitching by his side._

_“Oh, good,” someone says, their voice a velvet drawl, “you’re awake.”_

_It takes him a few moments to look to his right, where he sees a girl with short black hair standing beside him. Her eyes are dark, her lips curled in a smirk. Wetting his dry lips, he also notices a machine beside his bed; the source of the beeping._

_“Who’re you?” he whispers, barely able to raise his voice._

_“Tsukino Setsuko, at your service.” She bows, but he gets the feeling it’s mocking, not respectful. She looks back up, and he has time to see a flash of teeth before she asks, “And who the hell are you?”_

_“Um.” He licks his lips again, attempting to sit up. She just watches him, silent. “I don’t know?” The thumping in his chest is getting faster, along with the beeps of the monitor beside him._ Calm down _, he tells himself._ This is probably just a dream.

_The girl, Tsukino, cocks her head to the side. And then she says, “Aren’t you Oikawa Tooru?”_

_The room turns black._

_“Number one, Oikawa Tooru,” echoes through his head instead. Suddenly there’s blinding lights, a volleyball net, and fans and volleyball players alike in the bleachers. Beyond the net, he can spot a sea of purple uniforms, along with one towering giant-_

_-who becomes one colossal wall, blocking all paths. He finds himself running at it, only for it to block him, for it to knock him down to his feet. To make him fall. And then he’s falling, slipping down a ledge, tumbling into darkness-_

The shriek of his alarm startles him awake. As he slaps his alarm off, he can already feel the tendrils of the dream drifting away from him. But what he can remember is two faces: Tsukino Setsuko’s, a fellow assassin, and the giant who sent him falling.

 _Ushiwaka,_ his mind tells him. _His name is Us_ _hijima Wakatoshi._

Oikawa does not want to know.

He shakes himself awake as he sits up, pressing a hand to his forehead. The dreams have been coming every night now, and he _hates it,_ he _hates it he hates it he hates it-_

He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Checking his phone, he notices that it’s twelve pm (he never sleeps in this late!) and that Kuroo is not anywhere to be found.

It takes him a few more moments to pull himself out of bed, but when he does, he sees a note on the kitchen table: _I’ve gone to my new job. Won’t be back until after you’re gone._

 _How domestic,_ Oikawa thinks as he picks up the sticky note and throws it away. _Leaving notes for each other._

But – how long had they known each other now? Nine years? God, it had been so long.

Shaking his head, he reaches for a piece of bread on the kitchen counter. Squinting, he realises that the package is different from usual – did Kuroo buy _milk bread?_

Curious, he breaks off a piece before slowly putting it in his mouth.

_“That’s disgusting,” Iwaizumi says, watching him over the kitchen table with that very emotion as Oikawa stuffs milk bread into his mouth. Through the bread, Oikawa grins._

_“If you wanted some, you could’ve just asked,” he says as soon as he has swallowed the bread, winking at the same time._

_Iwaizumi glowers back. “If you wanted me to punch you, you could’ve just asked,” he snaps._

_“Ooh, so mean.” Oikawa drapes himself over his boyfriend despite being several centimetres taller. “If you like,” he murmurs, lips hovering over Iwaizumi’s mouth, “you can taste it anyway.”_

_The tips of Iwaizumi’s ears flush bright red, and for a moment, Oikawa thinks he’s going to push him away. Instead, he meets Oikawa’s lips in a slow, languid kiss._

_Oikawa nearly combusts on the spot._

_He will never get over the feel of his Iwaizumi’s lips on his._

_A moment later they break away, and Iwaizumi licks his lips, before saying, “Tastes disgusting.”_

_Oikawa smacks him._

He almost spits the milk bread out.

He’s leaning heavily on the counter now, staring unseeingly at the bread packet. Oikawa touches a hand to his lips, feeling as though he can almost sense the ghost of Iwaizumi’s lips over his. _Is it weird,_ he muses, _to have memories of kissing someone you only met a few days ago?_

But then, if these memories are to be believed, Oikawa had met Iwaizumi more than twenty years ago.

Oikawa throws the milk bread away.

***

“I’ll take a mocha latte.”

The student from the other day, Tsukishima Kei, is back. This time, he’s scowling at his phone, headphones looped around his neck. Oikawa confirms Tsukishima’s order as he watching him type furiously at his phone. He sees the name _Yamaguchi Tadashi_ at the top of the screen, and wonders whether he would’ve known that person, back before he lost his memory. As he makes the coffee, he remembers the chilling expression on Tsukishima’s face from some volleyball match where the ball got slammed to the ground, if Oikawa’s memories are correct.

“Thank you for your order!” he chirps, passing the coffee to Tsukishima with a smile. The student barely looks up from his phone as he murmurs a thanks. This time, instead of immediately leaving, he goes to one of the booths in the far back.

“Hey, hey!” comes Bokuto’s eternally cheerful voice, and when Oikawa turns he finds Bokuto leaning on the counter, waggling his eccentrically-shaped eyebrows. Internally, Oikawa winces; he doesn’t mind Bokuto, when Akaashi is there to act like a buffer. But the calmer man isn’t here today, and so Oikawa will probably have to suffer through this alone.

“Hello, Bokuto-san!” Oikawa says, trying to be just as cheerful (and failing, not that Bokuto notices). “Can I help you?”

Bokuto leans in, grinning mischeviously. “Was what Kuroo was saying yesterday true?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to specify, Bokuto-san.”

“You can just call me Bokuto, Yahaba! I’m talking about you two being in a relationship!”

Oikawa is pretty certain he shut down Kuroo’s strange flirting yesterday. “It’s not true. Kuroo was just, for lack of a better word, bullshitting.”

“I see!” Bokuto beams. “So, basically, Kuroo likes you and you don’t like him?”

“That’s not what I said-”

“Life is so tragic!” Bokuto spins and walks off to bother Tsukishima, whose headphones are now over his ears.

Oikawa really cannot be bothered correcting him.

Instead, he looks at the customer who has just arrived in the cafe. With a bright smile, he turns to them. “What can I get for you today?”

The man, who appears to be about the same height as Iwaizumi, has pale skin, freckles, and short, straight dark hair. He would, in Oikawa’s opinion, be more overwhelming if his body language showed more confidence.

“Um,” the man says, pulling out his wallet, “I’ll just take an iced cappuccino?” He hands the exact yen over, and Oikawa blinks before smiling again.

“Of course! Coming right up.”

Just before he turns to the coffee machines, he catches the man turning and catching sight of Tsukishima. His stance instantly becomes more relaxed, looser. _Interesting,_ Oikawa thinks. As he gives the man – Yamaguchi, maybe? – his coffee, he watches him head over to Tsukishima’s table. Tsukishima’s expression falls into the slightest of smiles.

“That’s Yamaguchi!” Bokuto says, suddenly beside Oikawa again. It takes all of Oikawa’s ten years of training to not jump. “Tsukki’s childhood friend.”

“How cute,” Oikawa says, but even he can hear the unenthusiasm in his voice. _Iwaizumi and I were childhood friends too, right?_

Bokuto doesn’t seem to notice his silent brooding. “It is cute!” He beams. “Yamaguchi told me they tried dating once, but it just didn’t work out.”

“I see.” Oikawa turns his gaze to the cash register, his mind churning with vague memories and cold thoughts.

The front door opens, and Oikawa’s fingers twitch before he looks up, spotting a softly smiling Iwaizumi and grinning Kuroo. His eyes widen at the sight, his pulse kickstarting – he gets the feeling that that only happens because of how _damn good_ Iwaizumi looks in a suit.

“Iwa-chan, Kuro-chan!” he calls cheerfully. Bokuto echoes his call (“Bokuto, just... don’t call me that,” and “Hey, hey, Bokuto!”).

“Yahaba-san, you didn’t tell me your friend was going to join my security team,” Iwaizumi says, but he doesn’t seem irritated at all.

“I guess I forgot!”

Iwaizumi just shakes his head, and for a moment Oikawa spots a worried crease in his face as he scans the shop. Then, it’s gone. “Akaashi not in today?” he says to Bokuto, who had been in the middle of a very enthusiastic conversation with Kuroo.

“Nope!” Bokuto says cheerfully. “The university wanted him today.”

Is that relief in Iwaizumi’s eyes? “I see,” he says. “Well, anyway, I’m just here to pick up Yahaba, Bokuto. Is it all right if he gets off five minutes early?”

Oikawa starts. Is it almost nine o’clock already?

“Sure, Iwa-chan!” Bokuto grins as Iwaizumi glares at him.

“I guess...” Oikawa steps back. The feeling of guilt is back – he only started the job this week and he’s already gotten off early three times.

When he comes out again, in his casual clothes this time, Iwaizumi says, “You don’t need to feel bad about being let off work early. Bokuto and Akaashi don’t mind, and the other employees get let off early a lot too.”

Oikawa just stares. Iwaizumi flushes. “Sorry for assuming-!”

“No, no, you’re right. Thank you, Iwa-chan.” He smiles, wide and genuine.

“Whatever.” Iwaizumi huffs, looking away. Kuroo wiggles his eyebrows from behind Iwaizumi’s back. Oikawa responds with the middle finger.

“Shall we get going?” he says, wrapping his scarf more snugly against himself.

“Of course.” Iwaizumi glances at Kuroo. “You don’t need to accompany me as security if you want to come, Kuroo-san.”

“Thank you, Iwaizumi-san, but I think I’ll stay here and hang out with Bokuto.” He grins. “Thank you for letting me be a part of your team.”

“Thank you for applying,” Iwaizumi says, and then laughs. “I saw those videos of your ‘interview’. I must say, I was and I am impressed.”

Kuroo bows, grinning wider. “Why, thank you very much.”

“Bye, Kuro-chan!” Oikawa calls over his shoulder as they make their way out of the shop.

“I hope you don’t mind, Yahaba-san, but I actually have gym equipment in my apartment? If you’d like to go there instead?” Iwaizumi is fidgeting with the edge of his scarf. It’s ridiculously endearing.

“Sure, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa’s cheeks are slightly flushed, but he puts it down to the cold night air. “And, you know, you can drop the honourifics.”

“I... Yeah, okay.”

They make small talk as they get in Iwaizumi’s car and drive to his apartment. Oikawa finds out that Iwaizumi has a masters degree in Business and Economics, that his closest friends right now are Akaashi and Bokuto, that he was offered a sports scholarship before his father died.

“Do you ever regret it?” Oikawa asks as they arrive at the apartment. “Not taking up volleyball professionally?”

Iwaizumi falls silent. Then, he murmurs, “No. Not anymore.” He smiles. “Anyway, if I’d taken the scholarship, I never would have met Akaashi and Bokuto.”

As they get in the lift, Iwaizumi presses the button for the top floor. Oikawa raises an eyebrow. “Penthouse suite?” he says.

Iwaizumi shrugs, appearing impassive, but the tips of his ears have reddened. “I don’t use most of it,” he admits. “I bought it on a whim, but most of the time, it’s just... empty.”

The elevator dings, and when they step out Oikawa is met with an empty sort of lobby area. Iwaizumi heads to the only apartment door (the other door is a fire escape) and unlocks it. Something about it makes his heart pound faster. “You coming?” Iwaizumi asks, stepping inside.

“Of course.”

It’s pretty damn huge.

To Oikawa’s right, there’s two large couches and a very expensive looking TV (Oikawa doesn’t know anything about TVs). On that side, the whole wall is just one huge, glass window, overlooking the city skyline. On his left, there’s a large kitchen area, fitted with the latest cooking technologies (not that he knows anything about that, either). The dining table is large, surrounded by stylish (but comfy-looking) chairs. There’s a spiral staircase leading to another floor, and beyond that, a small corridor. The floor looks like marble, and there are several fluffy carpets laid on the floor.

“Wow,” he finds himself saying as he takes off his shoes. But instead of adding, _it’s huge,_ or, _it’s amazing_ , he just says, “I can see why it would feel empty.”

Iwaizumi smiles.

“You can put your bags wherever you want. The gym area is past the staircase.”

Oikawa merely places his bags by the door. Iwaizumi offers him something to eat and drink, but Oikawa shakes his head with a smile. “I already had dinner,” he says – it had been pot noodles. Not that Iwaizumi needs to know that.

They make their way towards the corridor; it has two doors, and Iwaizumi opens the one on the right. Oikawa steps inside, footstep muffled by the padded floor, silently marvelling at the huge space and all the equipment.

“Are you going to change?” Iwaizumi asks, leaning against the door frame.

“Nope!” Oikawa says, grinning at Iwaizumi’s baffled look.

“So you’re going to spar in jeans...”

“I’m very good at it.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Well, whatever. I need to get changed myself, so I’ll be a moment.”

Oikawa nods, stepping further inside the room as he hears Iwaizumi’s footsteps fade away. He glances around the room properly. There are all sorts of training machines around the room, but from the looks of it, Iwaizumi doesn’t use them often. He does notice a couple of weights lying around and-

A volleyball.

Oikawa swallows, hard. What is this sudden clenching, drowning feeling? Why does he... Why does he feel like this from simply looking at a stupid ball?

He walks over to it, and, almost in a trance, picks it up, spinning it in his hands. It feels natural, it feels perfect. He throws the ball in the air, raising his hands-

And merely catches it when he hears footsteps, despite the fact that his hands are _itching_ to set it.

“Yahaba-,” comes Iwaizumi’s voice, only to stop abruptly upon spotting Oikawa. His lips open as if to say something else but nothing comes out.

“Did you forget how beautiful I was?” Oikawa teases, if only to ignore the sudden pounding of his heart and dry mouth. Iwaizumi is wearing a tanktop and shorts, and _god_ those broad shoulders...

Iwaizumi’s lips thin into a line, but other than that he says nothing, only walking over to him and taking the ball out of his hands, throwing it to the far corner of the room.

“We can play volleyball another time,” he says, but Oikawa can hear the tremble in his voice. “We’re here to spar, remember?”

“Don’t you miss it?” Oikawa asks as they take up defensive positions. “Volleyball, I mean?”

Iwaizumi is in the midst of forming a reply when Oikawa lunges.

He barely dodges, slipping slightly over the mat. His eyes narrow dangerously. “Cheat,” he says. Oikawa grins.

“You should never let your guard down, Iwa-chan!”

“Has anyone told you,” Iwaizumi begins, feinting to one side, “that you can be incredibly annoying?”

“Now, now, Iwa-chan, you can’t make friends like that!” Seeing clearly through the feint, Oikawa launches two kicks in quick succession. The first is blocked but the second hits Iwaizumi on the side, and Iwaizumi grimaces as he jumps back.

“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to be friends?” He blocks one of Oikawa’s punches and delivers his own swift kick.

Oikawa, however, is swifter, and nimbly dodges it while slamming a foot towards Iwaizumi’s torso. “Aren’t we friends already?”

The kick sends Iwaizumi sprawling back on the mattress, coughing and clutching his stomach.

“Shit!” Oikawa scrambles forwards, dropping to his knees beside Iwaizumi. “Shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to kick you that hard! Are you okay?”

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, eyes ablaze, but then something inside of him seems to break and the fires die down. “I’m fine,” he says gruffly. “Might need a moment.”

Oikawa sits beside Iwaizumi as he regains his breath, before suddenly saying, “So, we’re friends?”

“Of course, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa replies, doing his best to look bewildered over the clenching feeling in his chest. “You want to be, right?”

“Y-Yeah.” Iwaizumi breathes heavily through his nose, hand over his stomach. “You’re not... I mean, I basically forced this friendship on you, and... you’re okay with that?”

Oikawa blinks, before he feels very distinctly pissed off. “Don’t say that,” he snaps. “You didn’t force this friendship on me! If I hadn’t wanted to be friends with you, I wouldn’t have agreed to meeting you for lunch or even getting your phone number in the first place! It’s not like you manipulated me into it!” _If anything,_ I _manipulated the situation_.

Iwaizumi holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.” His gaze turns soft. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Oikawa beams, and gestures to himself. “I know you’re grateful to have been blessed with the sight of this beauty.”

Iwaizumi lets out a growl, sitting up suddenly before wincing and falling back down with a groan.

“Take it easy,” Oikawa says, smiling broadly.

In the end, Iwaizumi rests while Oikawa demonstrates techniques he learned over the years with Irihata and Kuroo.

“I remember seeing some of these,” Iwaizumi notes as Oikawa is showing him how to essentially dodge two fast attackers at once _and_ still be able to attack back. “Kuroo-san used them in his... interview.”

Oikawa grins. “We learnt together,” Oikawa says, and in his mind he remembers countless hours in the training room, practising techniques with and against each other. “He’s always been a formidable opponent. I’m better, though.” Oikawa winks. Iwaizumi just rolls his eyes.

Later, Iwaizumi decides he’s feeling better and Oikawa urges Iwaizumi to use some of the new techniques Oikawa taught him. Of course, Iwaizumi’s still a rookie at them, and Oikawa just giggles when he pins Iwaizumi to the ground for the fourth time.

“Ugh, I’m so rusty, and you’re so skilled. You’re unbelievably fast.” Iwaizumi shakes his head as Oikawa helps him to his feet.

“I trained a lot!” Oikawa beams. Then, he adds, “I wanted to be able to overcome any situation.”

He wasn’t lying.

After another half hour, Iwaizumi decides he’s had enough (“I don’t feel the need to crack all of my ribs...”) and they head to the main hall area.

“What do you want to watch?” Iwaizumi asks, heading over to the fridge as he pours them some more water.

Oikawa sits on the sofa and pretends to think. “How about something with aliens?”

Iwaizumi falls silent. Watching him carefully, Oikawa prompts, “Iwa-chan?”

“I-,” and his voice comes out all choked, before he clears his throat. “I guess that would be okay.”

“So you don’t want to?”

“No! I do want to. Yeah. I do.”

Iwaizumi sounds like he’s convincing himself rather than Oikawa.

“Great!” Oikawa grins, but it feels forced. “Which movie?”

“I don’t really mind...”

“Okay, how about E.T.?”

“That’s an awfully old film.”

“Totally worth it though!” He pauses. “Do you have E.T.?”

“Yes, I do-”

“Great! Where is it?” Oikawa stands from the couch, walking around to a shelf with several DVD cases. _Pacific Rim, Paul, The X-Files-_

“Ah, I’ll get it!” Iwaizumi quickly brushes past Oikawa, leaving a tingling feeling in his wake. It doesn’t take away the suspicion Oikawa feels when he watches Iwaizumi snatch the DVD off the shelf, however. Noticing Oikawa’s raised eyebrow, Iwaizumi flushes, and says, “There’s a note. From one of my friends. It’s embarrassing.”

Oikawa giggles. “Cute, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi glares, but the sight of it coupled with the blush only makes Oikawa laugh more. “Just watch the stupid movie,” Iwaizumi mutters, pressing the ‘On’ button harder than needed. Oikawa grins and flops down on the couch beside Iwaizumi as he turns down the lights using some kind of remote control.

They sit a respectful distance away from each other, but something in Oikawa is itching to get closer. As the first scenes unfurl on the TV, Oikawa gets the distinct feeling that he’s seen E.T. before, which he probably has. He does have almost eighteen years of memories missing, after all.

Despite the nagging feeling, he finds himself riveted. At one of the more emotional scenes, Iwaizumi makes some kind of noise; when Oikawa looks over, his cheeks seem to be reddening and-

_“Oikawa, you’re the one who wanted to watch the stupid movie!” Iwaizumi hisses, face ablaze as he tries to push his boyfriend off his lap._

_“Iwa-chan, come on!” Oikawa whines. “We’ve already watched this movie, it won’t be the end of the world if we make out a little! Please?” He wraps his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, sliding even further down Iwaizumi’s lap despite the other’s best efforts to push him off._

_“Oikawa-”_

_Iwaizumi stops when Oikawa kisses him mid-sentence. At his sides, Iwaizumi’s hands relax and pull Oikawa closer, tilting his head to allow Oikawa to kiss him more fully. Moments later, over the sound of the movie, Oikawa says breathlessly, “See? Told you it was a good idea.”_

_“Shut up.”_

Now Oikawa’s face is on fire too. He turns and stares resolutely at the TV instead of thinking about how _good_ Iwaizumi had felt.

Near the end of the movie, Oikawa falls asleep, his head resting on the arm, breaths deep and even. Iwaizumi looks over and spots him lying there and starts, staring for a bit. Then, he sighs.

“I guess you’ll be staying here, then,” he murmurs. He locates a blanket and lays it over the taller man’s sleeping form. For a moment, he stays there, watching his peaceful, dreaming face. Then, he shakes himself and heads up the stairs.

Oikawa’s eyes snap open, allowing himself a small grin.

His plan worked, then.

He stays on the couch until he hears the bedroom door upstairs close. Then, he sits up, blinking in the darkness. The neon letters of the digital clock on the DVD player read _00:04_. Oikawa never likes pulling all nighters, but...

He would for Iwaizumi.

He doubts the businessman is actually asleep, but just so long as he doesn’t come to check on Oikawa, it should be fine. He gets up quietly, locating his phone from his bag, and texts Kuroo. _At iwa-chan’s_ , he says. _What time does your shift start tomorrow?_

_ << u staying there the whole night?_

_> > yes. your shift?_

_ << starts at 12. Are you guys..._

_> > no, we’re not. i pretended to fall asleep._

_ << smooth._

_> > thanks._

_ << so you can keep him company till at least 12?_

_> > definitely._

_ << alright. Well have fun with your all nighter_

_> > fuck you_

They’re such good friends.

Oikawa puts his phone down, looking around the apartment. After years of training with the assassins, he’s become awfully good at discerning objects in the dark. As he searches the apartment, he mentally gauges the safety – no one could get through the windows, the locks seem secure – so that he can categorize any entry or exit points.

Half an hour later, he finds himself back at the couch, and looking at the E.T. DVD case. Curious, he reaches for the case, turning on his phone in order to read whatever the message was. When he opens the case, he sees neat kanji in black marker.

 _Watch it lots, Iwa-chan!!_ it reads. _it’s amazing!!!! and everytime you watch it, think of me! <3 <3_

He gets the very distinct, horrible, crushing feeling that he was the one who wrote that message.

He puts the case back, and watches the apartment for the rest of the night.

***

Oikawa is lying on the couch when Iwaizumi comes downstairs.

He’s not actually sleeping, of course, and he merely listens as Iwaizumi busies himself making breakfast. Or something. Moments later, he hears a pot being placed down (on the cooker, maybe?) and then, the unmistakable sound of sizzling.

When the smell of miso soup (and eggs) becomes too much to ignore, Oikawa pretends to just be waking up. He slowly sits, staring blearily at Iwaizumi (that part isn’t faked – he’s pretty tired after staying up all night), who smiles at him and says, “Good morning.”

“Morning, Iwa-chan,” and the yawn that accompanies these words isn’t faked either. “Smells nice.”

“Thanks. You can come eat now, if you want.”

Oikawa spends the breakfast complimenting (and thanking) Iwaizumi. The breakfast really is delicious, and he gets the feeling that it’s much improved since the time before.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa begins as he’s putting the dishes in the sink. “Do you have work today?”

“They don’t need me today,” Iwaizumi answers.

“Good!” Oikawa grins. “Let’s go out. There’s a park nearby, right? I saw it in the car, yesterday. Let’s go there!”

Iwaizumi considers this, hazel eyes soft and Oikawa already knows he’s going to say yes. “Sure.”

So after Iwaizumi lends Oikawa a new t-shirt (it’s a bit big but Oikawa looks good in baggy shirts that hang off his shoulders _just right_ , plus the scent of Iwaizumi clinging to him is worth it), they make their way outside. Oikawa swears loudly as soon as they step into the frosty February air, and Iwaizumi chuckles.

“What did you expect?” he asks, and Oikawa whines and clings to Iwaizumi’s arm.

“You’re so cruel to me!” He pulls up his scarf to cover more of his chin and notices the heat radiating off Iwaizumi’s body. “Why are _you_ so warm?”

“Because I’m smart enough to wear lots of layers?”

“Ugh!”

By the time they arrive at the park, despite the extra layers, both their noses and ears are red and Oikawa has buried his hands deep in his pocket. “It’s almost March,” he moans. “Why the hell is it so cold?”

“It’s this cold every year.” Iwaizumi laughs at Oikawa’s expression. “You know what, take my scarf too.”

Oikawa stares at him, the fluttering in his stomach intensifying as Iwaizumi unwraps his scarf. “No, no, I don’t need it,” Oikawa insists, putting out his hands.

“I’ve already taken it off, idiot, just accept it.” He wraps it around Oikawa’s neck, coming so close that Oikawa can feel his breath against his cheek. The tingling sensation runs from his stomach all the way to his toes, now, and the beating of his heart is getting ever faster.

Iwaizumi steps back, and Oikawa lifts a hand to the scarf. “Two scarves is unfashionable,” he murmurs, and then adds an even quieter, “Thanks.”

Iwaizumi grins.

Oikawa really wants to kiss that grin.

Shaking his mind free of its thoughts, he smiles back at Iwaizumi and they continue to walk through the park. “There’s a really nice fountain in the center,” Iwaizumi says. “In the summer, there’s always dozens of birds that come by and-”

Oikawa pushes Iwaizumi, hard, just as the bullet flies past their faces.

He doesn’t check to see if Iwaizumi’s okay, or even watching. He whips around, snarling at the figure several metres behind them. He should feel panicked, he supposes, as he stalks towards the figure with a murderous calm. Their body is covered by a large coat, and a hood covers half their face. But Oikawa would recognise that stance anywhere.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls at his kouhai. The other assassin seems to flinch, but doesn’t otherwise move. Oikawa can spot the outline of the gun peeking out of his coat.

“I’m sorry, Oikawa-san,” the assassin calls, not looking sorry at all, before rapidly firing a number of shots.

There’s a silencer on the gun – a Desert Eagle, the assassin’s weapon of choice – but Oikawa can feel the ringing in his ears. Only two of the bullets are actually aimed at Oikawa; the others are all at Iwaizumi.

Oikawa only barely manages to evade the bullets, judging the direction of the shots from his kouhai’s stance, but Iwaizumi-

He hears a small yelp of pain, and that’s when Oikawa’s vision goes dark with fury.

He races towards the assassin with speed that was matched only by Kuroo (and Setsuko). He doesn’t even care about the bullet that grazes his shoulder or his thigh because by that time he’s already punched the assassin hard across the face.

He’s breathing heavily as he kicks the gun out of the man’s hand and knees him in the gut ferociously. “Oikawa-,” the assassin chokes, but Oikawa just kicks him to the ground.

“You can’t even dare to try to defeat me,” Oikawa sneers, expression cold and hard and angry. He kicks him hard across the cheek – a white tooth goes flying. “You’ve always been weak, Shira-chan, and you’ve always hated me. I bet this assignment was the best you’d had in ages.” Oikawa drops to straddle the assassin, and a hand grips his neck, pinning him to the ground. “I bet you just _jumped_ at the chance to show off to Irihata, didn’t you?

“Well, I’ve got news for you, asshole. You’ve failed. You’re a failure. And now you’re also going to be dead.”

He reaches for the gun tucked in his waistband-

Only to find it gone.

“Checkmate,” Shira whispers, and Oikawa feels the cold kiss of a steel barrel against his side.

So when the ringing of a fired bullet finds its way to Oikawa’s ears, he’s surprised that he’s not on the ground clutching his side.

Shira shrieks in pain, dropping the gun instantly, the blood in his shoulder steadily growing.

“I guess you forfeit,” Iwaizumi says through heavy breaths.

Oikawa stumbles off the assassin, the relief in his blood making him dizzy. He looks up at Iwaizumi, whose expression is cold and closed off. There’s nothing in his gaze as he looks at Oikawa.

“You have some explaining to do,” he says, and drops the gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha did u enjoy it  
> :)))) is an evil smile
> 
> also yes there were two ocs SORRY don't worry they're not main characters i just couldn't make it work with any of the canon characters since the characters are essentially post-canon (except kuroo obvs)
> 
> in other notes im planning a drabble hogwarts au fic and maybe faeries and one day i wanna write a/b/o and yes i have too many ideas
> 
> but  
> what do you guys think about a prequel fic about kuroo (and oikawa)?????


	7. false identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY BIGGEST APOLOGIES TO ALL MY READERS  
> I HAVE NO EXCUSES  
> KINDLY BEAT ABOUT MY USELESS BODY
> 
> also because one week updates are clearly an impossible goal for some useless butt such as myself, the updates will come every two weeks. sorry guys ;_; IF I CAN WRITE A CHAPTER WITHIN A WEEK I'LL DEF POST IT BUT OTHERWISE.....
> 
> //apologises profusely
> 
> but  
> thank you all for getting me up to 250 kudos!! you're all amazing ;o;

Oikawa decides that they are extremely, ridiculously lucky. Because there is no one else around.

But that doesn’t mean that someone won’t pass through soon. So he pulls out his phone, and dials the first number he finds.

“Oikawa?” Kuroo’s sleep-filled voice speaks in his ear.

“Kuro-chan, we have a bit of a problem,” he says, eyeing the assassin on the ground. His arms and legs have been bound and he’s lying face down. Iwaizumi had knocked him out shortly after shooting him. There’s a jacket, Iwaizumi’s jacket, underneath his shoulder in order to prevent more blood from staining the ground. “Shira-chan turned up.”

“Ugh, you’re shitting me.” In the background, Oikawa can hear rustling coming from Kuroo’s end. Kuroo curses, and then he says, “Where’s he now?”

“On the ground in front of me.” Oikawa isn’t sure why he’s so calm. Iwaizumi hasn’t looked at him since the incident, he’s probably about to be found out, Irihata is going to _kill him-_

“On the ground?” Kuroo’s incredulous voice filters through his thoughts.

“Yeah. Iwa-chan shot him. In the shoulder. Then he hit his head.”

Kuroo whistles. “Nice.” There’s a silence. “Always knew Shira was a dick.”

“Kuroo, will you-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll clean it up for you. Find a secluded spot in – wherever you are, and I’ll meet you there.”

“It’s a park near Iwaizumi’s apartment.” Oikawa doesn’t need to tell Kuroo the address; they’d both memorised it, anyway, when they’d been scoping out their target. “I don’t know the name.”

“Ten minutes,” Kuroo says, and hangs up.

Oikawa is left with a stifling silence. “Um,” he begins.

“Yeah, I heard,” Iwaizumi answers shortly, grabbing one of the assassin’s arms. Oikawa reaches for the other, keeping the jacket wrapped around the shoulder wound, and they move the body into the trees. Oikawa doesn’t miss Iwaizumi’s faint wince; earlier, he had been clipped in the cheek and shoulder. Over the guilt he feels, there is immense relief, that Iwaizumi had not been harmed too seriously.

He watches awkwardly as Iwaizumi drops Shira unceremoniously. “What about the blood over there?”

Oikawa silently takes his scarf, walks over, and mops up as much blood as he can. The other scarf, Iwaizumi’s scarf, is still wrapped around his neck. He doesn’t feel cold now, not at all. Oikawa would give it back to Iwaizumi, but he gets the distinct feeling that Iwaizumi wouldn’t want it back.

After wiping up as much as he can, he folds the scarf and heads back to where Iwaizumi is standing. The businessman is not looking at him, but at the other assassin before him.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa starts, but Iwaizumi cuts him off with a cold look.

“Don’t. Don’t call me that.”

Oikawa swallows, his pulse thudding in his throat, his stomach becoming more and more hollow with each passing moment.

“I can explain-,” he begins, but the shrill call of a phone interrupts his words.

Iwaizumi angrily fishes out his phone, glaring at the caller. “What do you want?” he snaps, and even Oikawa has to flinch at the fury in his words.

But then it melts away.

“You... what?” Iwaizumi turns around, facing away from Oikawa. There’s something strange in his voice. He speaks quieter, but Oikawa is able to make out the words. “Are you sure it’s him? You’re absolutely certain?” There’s a pause. “Yes. I’ll be there. Thank you, Kurosawa.”

The name rings through Oikawa with the kind of intense dread that he hasn’t felt since he was told to spar with Tsukino Setsuko in an one-on-one match. Even then, the feeling was barely as great as this...

Iwaizumi ends the call, and suddenly he’s cold again, looking back at Oikawa with impassivity (but there’s a new light in his eyes). “I need to go,” he says. “Something important has come up.”

What the _hell_ could be more important than an unconscious body on the ground, one body which was trying to kill them five minutes ago?

“Iwaizumi,” Oikawa tries as he begins to walk away. Iwaizumi stops for a moment, looks back.

“You have five seconds,” he says.

“Kurosawa is...” Oikawa bites his lip. “Just... don’t trust him?”

The look in Iwaizumi’s eyes becomes sharp, angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spits, and stalks off.

The worst part is that he’s right. Because Oikawa doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

He doesn’t know anything.

***

When Kuroo finds him, he’s sitting on Shira’s unconscious body. Iwaizumi’s coat is still wrapped around his shoulder. Oikawa vaguely wonders whether the bloodstains will ever come out.

“Where’s Iwaizumi?” Kuroo says, his footsteps light.

“He said he had some ‘important business’.” Oikawa shakes his head, wrapping his arms further around himself. “What could be more important that the fact that someone just tried to kill him?” He’s shivering, but he’s not cold anymore; instead, his blood is running hot, running frantic.

“He’s a businessman. No one understands businessmen.” Kuroo sits down beside Oikawa. “Oikawa. I can see you freaking out lowkey over there. It’s going to be okay.”

“What if it’s not though?” Oikawa asks, raising his eyes to Kuroo’s. “What if I never find out my past and I end up killing the one person who could tell me the truth? What if I’m stuck murdering for my whole life? Never knowing the truth, never knowing-”

Kuroo punches Oikawa across the face.

Pain explodes in his jaw as he falls off of Shira’s body. Spluttering, he holds a hand to his jaw, the other hand on the ground. “What the fuck was that for?” Oikawa cries as Kuroo stands, looking at Oikawa with a greatly unsympathetic expression.

“You know what it was for,” Kuroo says, kicking lightly at Oikawa’s arm. Oikawa falls silent. And then he smiles a little, partly wincing in pain.

“You’re right, as always, Kuro-chan,” he says. Ugh, his face hurts like hell though. “Could’ve pulled your punch a little.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Kuroo grins, leaning down as he extends an arm to help Oikawa up.

Really, Kuroo should have seen it coming; Oikawa yanks hard on his friend’s arm and brings Kuroo crashing down beside him, landing over Shira’s legs.

“Ow,” Kuroo moans, one arm braced on Shira’s foot. “Fuck you, Oikawa.”

“Fuck you too.”

“Fuck both of you,” comes Shira’s raspy voice, and they look sharply to where Shira’s eyes are blinking open. “I fucking hate all of you-”

“Do you want to knock him out, or should I?” Oikawa asks, stuffing a loose sleeve from the jacket into Shira’s mouth.

“I think it’s my turn to beat this asshole about the face,” Kuroo says, and his grin turns icily menacing. Oikawa only has time to see Shira’s eyes widening in fear before Kuroo punches him across the face.

“What do we do with him?” Kuroo asks, standing back, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Dump his body in a river,” Oikawa says, sniffing.

“Nice idea,” Kuroo says, “but no.”

“Ruining my dreams, Kuro-chan.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Kuroo fists a hand into Shira’s shirt, pulls him up a little. His other hand searches the assassin’s pockets, finding several hidden knives and a mobile phone. His lips slice up into a wild grin. “Let’s give Irihata-san an early birthday present.”

***

Later, they watch footage of Irihata walking into their old hotel room and finding Shira strung up upside down, unconscious, half-naked, with black marker scrawled across his chest.

(Kuroo had wanted to carve the words into his chest, but Oikawa had opted for black pen instead.)

The older man stands in the hotel room for all of five seconds, before he turns and leisurely walks out. He doesn’t spare the unconscious assassin a second glance.

Kuroo and Oikawa smile.

***

“So, what’s the deal with Iwa-chan?” Kuroo asks, spinning idly in the office chair of the hotel new room. “Was he freaked out?”

“He was really... cold. I don’t know.” Oikawa groans, flopping onto his bed with a sigh. “Then suddenly he got a phone call and went off. Something about important business.”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “You mentioned that,” he says. “Did Iwaizumi say _what_ the important business was?”

Oikawa sneers. “As if he would tell me after I went crazy with Shira-chan.”

Kuroo’s expression turns dark. “Wipe that expression of self-loathing off your fucking face, Oikawa,” he says, eyes narrowed. “You did what had to be done.”

“But what if... What if Iwaizumi never wants to speak to me again? All of this would have been for nothing!” Oikawa bolts upright, his hands fisting in the bedsheets. “We’ve screwed Irihata over for _nothing_.”

“The old asshole deserved it,” Kuroo says, waving a passive hand. “We’re not tools that he can use whenever he wants.”

“Kuro-chan-”

“Listen to me, Oikawa.” Kuroo stands, walking over to the bed. “ _Listen to me._ I know the situation has gone to shit. But that’s _fine._ You should-” Kuroo seems to hesitate, before his gaze hardens. “You should tell Iwaizumi the truth.”

“Ugh, fuck,” Oikawa says, dragging a hand through his hair. “I hate the truth.”

“No, you don’t,” Kuroo says. “You just hate the part that comes after.”

“I hate you too.”

“No, you don’t,” Kuroo repeats, but this time there’s a smirk on his face. “You just hate the fact that I’m not yours~!”

Oikawa splutters out a laugh. “That’s funny, Kuroo.”

“Wow. That hurts.” Kuroo slaps a hand to his chest, right where his heart is. “Your words wound me greatly. You’re just jealous that my game is stronger than yours.”

At this, Oikawa stops laughing. His eyes narrow, and slowly, he stands. He’s a few centimetres shorter than Kuroo, but that doesn’t mean he can’t look just as menacing. “Oh?” he says, quietly. “Is that a challenge?”

Kuroo’s face adopts a serious, slightly dark expression.

His eyebrow, along with the right side of his lips, twitches.

Oikawa bursts out laughing.

“While we’re on this topic,” Kuroo wheezes, through his laughter, “when we were at the cafe the other day and you’d gone off with your Iwa-chan, I met this really cute blonde boy...”

***

Oikawa is standing outside Owl’s Coffee, his phone clutched in his hand, Iwaizumi’s coat and scarf folded over his arm.

_> > Yahaba-san, this is Akaashi. I know you don’t have work today, but could you come to the cafe within the next thirty minutes if possible? It’s urgent. My apologies for bothering you on your day off._

_ << Don’t worry about it, Akaashi-chan. I’m on my way now._

He bites his lip, wondering _what_ could possibly be so important, and pushes his way into the cafe.

He’s greeted with the familiar, comforting scent of coffee and the whir of machines. Someone’s piping up with a ‘ _Thank you for coming!’_ and there’s the low murmur of voices in the shop. He spots Akaashi leaning on the counter, watching something further in the shop. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, his mouth set in a faintly hard line. He looks like he’s thinking particularly hard.

Oikawa walks over, watching Akaashi’s eyes (somewhat reluctantly) drag away from whatever it was he was watching to look at Oikawa. His gaze flicks down to the jacket and scarf on Oikawa’s arm before flitting back to his face. “Good morning, Yahaba-san,” he greets. “Sorry for making you come out here on your day off.”

“It’s all right, Aka-chan!” Oikawa musters up a bright smile. “Actually, I have a request for you-”

“First,” Akaashi cuts in, and Oikawa blinks in surprise. Oikawa hasn’t known Akaashi long, but he’s good at observing people, and he knows that normally, Akaashi would never interrupt someone so abruptly. “Look over there.”

Oikawa turns, and the blood stills in his veins.

Iwaizumi Hajime is sitting by one of the windows, his back towards the door. But he’s not along.

There’s a man, someone with pale skin, brown hair, and a striking smile, sitting opposite him. He looks...

Like Oikawa.

Beside the window, Iwaizumi grins, even laughs.

His blood comes pounding back through his body, rushing through his ears. All of a sudden he feels dizzy. Like he maybe needs to sit down. He doesn’t notice Akaashi’s silent, calculating gaze fixed on him.

“That man,” Akaashi says, quietly, “is Oikawa Tooru.”

Oikawa can’t breathe.

“Allegedly,” Akaashi adds. He comes out from behind the counter as Oikawa is staring, _choking_. Gently, he takes Oikawa by the elbow and leads him into the opposite corner of the cafe, and sits him down. Then, he takes the seat opposite.

“Aka-chan,” Oikawa begins, forcing his features to become normal (it’s not working). “Why-”

“Let me tell you a story, Yahaba-san,” Akaashi says, again cutting through Oikawa’s words. Oikawa turns to look at Akaashi properly. His pulse is still thundering through his veins, and he feels rather weak. Dimly, he nods. Akaashi observes him with dark, impassive eyes, before he starts.

“Ten years ago, there were two boys who were best friends. They loved each other like brothers, or maybe even something more. Their favourite hobby was volleyball.”

Akaashi is still watching him with that silent, unreadable gaze.

“One day, one of the friends disappeared. The other friend was left alone, especially when, shortly after, his father died.”

_“Don’t you find it strange,” Kuroo says, his expression incredibly serious, “how Iwaizumi’s father died ten years ago?”_

“The boy became a man. He took on an impossible job, went to university, and became successful. He made new friends, found new sights, felt new things. But he never, ever, forgot.”

Shards of ice are sliding into Oikawa’s chest.

“For the last ten years, the boy-turned-man has been searching. For his other half. For his friend. For his brother. For a man named _Oikawa Tooru_. And yesterday, at approximately ten-oh-eight am, he found him.”

No, it’s not ice spearing him, it’s the gaze of one _Akaashi Keiji_ , former volleyball setter of a star team that had gone to nationals.

Oikawa blinks, slowly, as Akaashi adds, even quieter: “ _Allegedly._ ”

“Why... Why are you telling me this?” Oikawa asks, wetting his dry lips.

Akaashi tilts his head to the side. There’s a sort of stillness about Akaashi, something Oikawa doesn’t think he could see anywhere else. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a curl to Akaashi’s fingers that hints at uncertainty. “Because you _are_  Oikawa Tooru, aren’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _plot twist_  
>  i love happy endings but  
> angst is p good too
> 
> what do you mEAN that chapter wasn't long enough for a 3 week long break??!  
> ok ur right im sorry  
> A-A-ACCEPT M-MY APOLOGIES??
> 
> also if ur wondering, oikawa had iwa-chan's coat + scarf cause he wanted akaashi to give them back to iwa-chan instead of oikawa cause oikawa's a weakling


	8. true eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look... im on time....  
> i think. lmao....  
> this chapter is mostly talking........ have fun guys!!
> 
> oh and btw i forgot to say earlier but  
> thank you all for your continued support!! it means a lot to me ;__; u guys r in my hearttt

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oikawa says coolly, but he knows he’s not fooling anyone. He can’t exactly admit straight up to Akaashi than _yes, he is Oikawa Tooru_ , because he’s _not actually sure_ if he is Oikawa Tooru. Not only that, but it’s one thing to tell Iwaizumi the truth, and another thing to tell Akaashi, whom he’s never even known. Probably.

“Oikawa-san,” Akaashi says, gaze firm, “I just want to help Iwaizumi... and you. Iwaizumi has been my friend for a long time. All this time, he’s been suffering. All this time, he’s been searching... for you.”

“You’ve got the wrong person,” Oikawa repeats flatly, but his heart is racing. _Should I tell Akaashi can I tell Akaashi what would Kuroo do Akaashi is trustworthy Akaashi is unknown what-_

“I-” Akaashi licks his lips, and now there’s a pleading expression in his eyes. “Please, just tell me the truth. I want to help. I swear no one will find out from me. Yahaba-san – Oikawa-san – _please._ ”

Oikawa’s mouth is trembling. _Was it worth the risk?_

“I... I understand that you may not want to confide in me,” Akaashi says, his fingers wrapped around each other on the table. “I just want Iwaizumi to be okay after ten years of suffering. I don’t know what happened ten years ago, and I don’t know what you’ve been doing these past ten years. I don’t need to know. What I would like to know is... are you the real, the genuine Oikawa Tooru?”

Oikawa is silent. He’s silent while an employee comes over and asks Akaashi a question (but not without glancing at Oikawa several times first), and he’s silent while Akaashi answers with a kind (but imperceptibly shaky) smile.

“I don’t know,” he says at last, and Akaashi’s brow furrows in confusion. “I... give me a moment.”

He pulls out his phone, calls Kuroo. His friend picks up on the second ring. “Oikawa?”

“Kuro-chan,” Oikawa says. “I’m coming back. I don’t think you’ll like this.”

“Oikawa, what-”

He ends the call, and looks up at Akaashi. His pulse is beginning to settle down again, into a calm, purposeful rhythm. He gets the feeling that he might just regret this.

“If you want to know...,” he says softly to Akaashi, “then you’ll come with me, now.”

Akaashi stills. Oikawa can see him thinking it over, weighing the risks; eventually, he nods. His eyes are piercingly firm. “All right.”

Oikawa waits by the door as Akaashi disappears into the back of the cafe – presumably, to tell the employees that he’s leaving. A movement in the corner of his eye catches his gaze, and he turns, spotting the man who had been sitting opposite Iwaizumi standing. He makes his way to the bathroom, and Oikawa clutches the jacket and scarf tighter in his hands.

Being an assassin hasn’t given him unlimited confidence, unfortunately.

He takes a deep breath, steadies his shaking hands, and makes his way to Iwaizumi’s table.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, softly, and Iwaizumi’s entire back stiffens. He places the items of clothing on the table, careful to avoid the coffee cups. He turns to leave, feeling unbearably hollow inside. When he’s about a foot away, he turns back and says, “I’m sorry.”

Then, he meets Akaashi at the door and together, they step outside.

There’s a silence as they make their way down the street. Then, Akaashi says, “That was awfully brave of you.”

“All I did was give him back his things.”

“But you were going to ask me to do it at first, weren’t you?”

Oikawa stops suddenly; a smile cracks wide on his face, edged with pain. “You’re far too perceptive, Aka-chan.”

The rest of the walk (twenty minutes long) is done in silence. Oikawa does not make conversation; Akaashi does not make conversation. The air isn’t exactly uncomfortable – it’s more _tense_ , full of unspoken thoughts and unasked questions.

Finally, they arrive at the hotel. Oikawa isn’t surprised to see Kuroo standing at the doorway, arms folded. His eyes widen then narrow at the sight of Akaashi.

“Please don’t tell me we have to kill him,” Kuroo says, and Akaashi flinches sharply, his eyes wide. He’s suddenly frozen, staring at Oikawa, his hand reaching into his pocket for presumably his phone.

“We’re not going to kill him,” Oikawa says, exasperated, and turns to Akaashi. “We’re not going to kill you.”

Akaashi is just staring.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Oikawa groans. “Kuroo, why are the things you mention first in conversations always weird things?”

“Maybe your weirdness is rubbing off on me.” Kuroo grins.

“But...,” Akaashi breaks in, “why would you kill me?”

Oikawa knows Akaashi’s not asking what their motives would be, but rather why they even thought about killing him first.

He sighs. “It’s a long story, Aka-chan,” he says, leading him into the hotel. Kuroo saunters after them, pose relaxed but eyes narrowed.

“Are you going to tell me all of it?” Akaashi asks. His fingers are clenched in his jacket’s pockets, Oikawa notices.

“Just the parts you need to know,” Kuroo says, and sends Oikawa a look. “Right?”

Oikawa merely inclines his head.

They make their way to the room, taking the lift to the top floor (Akaashi had looked at the enclosed space suspiciously and Oikawa had laughed and said “We’re not going to attack you!”).

Kuroo mutters as he unlocks their door, “Irihata-san better not have a fucking present for us.”

Oh, shit. Oikawa hadn’t even considered the possibility.

He’s too busy worrying about whether or not Irihata will have left something for him that he doesn’t notice Akaashi tense for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. Kuroo does, however, and he brings it up once they’re certain there’s nothing lying around.

“What is it?” he says. Akaashi blinks.

“What is what?”

“You recognised Irihata-san’s name, didn’t you? Or you recognised something in my sentence from before.”

Akaashi considers Kuroo carefully. “You’re both very intelligent,” he says, and Kuroo beams. “Yes, I recognise the name ‘Irihata’. I don’t think we’re thinking of the same person though.”

“Probably not,” Kuroo admits, and he drops it.

Oikawa doesn’t. Curious, he asks, “Who is it you were thinking of?”

Akaashi’s gaze flicks to Oikawa. He says, calmly, “Iwaizumi’s high school volleyball coach. He mentioned him a few times. If I’m right about you, then _your_ high school volleyball coach as well.”

Kuroo freezes. Oikawa merely blinks.

“What does he mean, ‘ _if I’m right about you’_?” Kuroo demands, glaring at Oikawa.

“My high school volleyball coach, huh.” The name doesn’t trigger any kind of memory; he doesn’t know what he expected, a sudden flashback? It wasn’t like they hadn’t happened before, though.

“Oik- _Yahaba._ ”

“You don’t have to call me _Yahaba_ anymore, Kuro-chan,” Oikawa says cheerfully, raising his head to meet Kuroo’s gaze. “Because Akaashi guessed that I was Oikawa Tooru.”

“You haven’t actually confirmed my theory yet,” Akaashi adds quietly as Kuroo gapes.

“You-You _guessed he was Oikawa?_ How the hell?” Kuroo looks halfway between panicked and impressed.

“Just... little things.” Akaashi averts his gaze.

“And you called us intelligent. Holy shit.” Kuroo shakes his head. “So, is that why you brought him here, then, Oikawa? To tell him the truth?”

“It’s just like you said, Kuro-chan; we’re only going to tell him the parts he needs to know.” Oikawa flops into the office chair with a sigh. “Take a seat, boys.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Kuroo says, reclining in his bed. “This is much more comfortable.”

Oikawa glares as Akaashi settles down awkwardly on the edge of Oikawa’s bed. “So...,” Akaashi starts. “Why were you going to kill me?”

“He’s an assassin,” Kuroo calls. Oikawa nods vigorously.

“Kuroo’s an assassin, too.”

Akaashi’s expression hasn’t changed. After a few moments, he slowly nods, slowly blinks. “Okay,” he says calmly. “Okay.” Then, he says, “Do I need to call the police, or...?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Oikawa says hastily.

“We could kill you before you had even touched your phone, anyway,” Kuroo adds, closing his eyes.

“Kuroo,” Oikawa says warningly as Akaashi’s face pales. “We’re not going to kill you. Or harm you in any way.”

“Probably,” Kuroo says, and as though sensing Oikawa’s glare, adds, “I’ll shut up now.”

“Ugh. Anyway.” He sits forwards slightly on the seat, meeting Akaashi’s gaze. “What do you know so far about... me?”

“Only little bits,” Akaashi says, regaining his composure. “Iwaizumi has told me some things. He said he lost you when he was eighteen – you were seventeen, I remember him clarifying, because you went missing shortly before your birthday. You were supposed to meet him that evening, but you never arrived. Your parents said you’d left the house, but no one could find you.” There’s something like secondhand sorrow in his eyes.

Ah. The dream he’d had, the one where they’d been in the changing room – that must have been the day he went missing.

“Well,” Oikawa says, brightly. “I don’t remember any of that!”

Which was a lie, since he’d remembered some of it in a dream earlier in the week. But _that wasn’t the point._

Akaashi looks confused, but Oikawa can see the gears in his brain sliding together. “I don’t remember anything,” Oikawa says, more quietly now, “Before July 18th, ten years ago.”

The gears have clicked; Akaashi’s eyes fill with understanding. “I see,” he says. “That’s why you never contacted Iwaizumi. But how-”

“How did I become an assassin?” Oikawa smiles, but there’s no joy in it. “I washed up on the banks of a river. Irihata-san, my old mentor and current boss, found me half-dead. And for the past ten years, I’ve been training and taking on jobs, along with Kuroo.” The other man raises his hand with a little wave, eyes still closed. Oikawa’s grin turns bitter. “You probably want to leave, now.”

Akaashi hesitates. “I’ll admit I don’t exactly approve of killing as a profession,” he says, and Kuroo snorts quietly, “but I’m not going to leave yet.” His fingers clench on his thigh. “I want to help you, O-Oikawa-san.” His gaze is firm.

Oikawa considers the man before him. God, what an honourable man he must be; willing to risk his life with people he can barely trust to help his friend find closure, or something. “Okay,” Oikawa says finally, and smiles a genuine smile. Akaashi is a kind and clever soul. “First of all, who _the fuck_ was that guy back in the cafe?”

Kuroo’s eyes open and he turns onto his side, gazing at them curiously. “What guy?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Akaashi says. “That’s the thing. I really... don’t know.”

“You said he was me. But I’m me, obviously, so who the hell was he?”

“Wanna fill me in on what’s going on?” Kuroo calls, folding his arms as he sits up on the bed.

“Somebody’s impersonating Oikawa-san,” Akaashi answers before Oikawa can. “We saw them in the cafe today, sitting together.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Kuroo groans. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another. So we don’t know who this guy is.”

Akaashi shakes his head quickly. “Iwaizumi called me yesterday, before lunch,” he says. “He told me he’d finally found him. Well, _you_ , I suppose. Except it wasn’t.” Akaashi glances down at his hands. “For a second, I don’t know, I think I thought he’d recognised you. But then when he came in this morning with that man... Well, I knew something had gone wrong.” Akaashi bites his lip. “See, I wasn’t actually sure whether you were really him. Because you didn’t know Iwaizumi, but at the same time, you did.”

“Yeah, that was the ‘lost memories’ thing,” Oikawa murmurs. He raises his gaze to Akaashi’s. “A couple of weeks ago, I was told to kill Iwaizumi. But when I saw, something in my mind just... _clicked._ ”

“Also, he puked,” Kuroo adds.

“Also, I puked.” Oikawa nods. Akaashi winces a little.

“So you didn’t kill him,” Akaashi says.

“I didn’t. I wanted to find out who he really was to me. Which is why I applied to your cafe, Aka-chan.”

Akaashi looks faintly surprised, but then he smiles. “It wasn’t a coincidence,” he says.

“Nope.”

“So, how did you know it was Oikawa?” Kuroo asks. He’s gazing at Akaashi with sharp eyes, but it’s softer than his usual piercing look.

“Again, I wasn’t actually sure, but there were some moments... Like when Tsukishima Kei came in. He seemed to know you, but you didn’t know him, until I mentioned volleyball to you.”

“Tsukki?” Kuroo sits up, looking a lot more interested now. Right. Oikawa had forgotten about his stupid crush. “Tsukki knew Oikawa?”

“He would have, if you, Yahaba-san at the time, had gone to Aoba Johsai High School ten, eleven years ago.” Akaashi grins, and now there’s something fond in his eyes. “You would have actually played against him several times, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa pauses, trying hard to remember. But all he can think of is when he remembered seeing Tsukishima Kei block Ushijima Wakatoshi’s spike on the TV. “I don’t remember,” he says, finally, shaking his head.

“That’s okay, of course. There’s also Daichi and Suga.”

“Who?”

“Ah, their surnames are Sawamura and Sugawara. They went to Karasuno High School, same as Tsukishima-kun. They saw you, in the cafe once; actually, they were what made me think you were Oikawa Tooru. They thought you looked like him, and actually mentioned it to me in passing.” Akaashi shrugs, rather delicately in Oikawa’s opinion.

“So you put all the pieces together,” Kuroo says.

“For the most part. There were some things I couldn’t quite understand; why you never told Iwaizumi the truth was my biggest source of confusion. Of course, it could have just been that you weren’t actually Oikawa Tooru, but...” Akaashi hesitates. “To be frank, I’m glad you are.”

“Thanks, I guess, Akaashi-chan.” Oikawa smiles a small smile.

“So.” Kuroo gets up from his position and goes to sit on the edge of his bed. “The question is, what the fuck do we do now?”

***

Iwaizumi Hajime is beginning to have his doubts.

He wants Oikawa back. He wants him back more than anything. He’s waited to meet him again for years.

But he didn’t expect this person to be the one he was waiting for.

“Iwaizumi-san,” the man says, “Thank you for... understanding.”

The name rings wrongly in his ears. _Iwa-chan_ , he wants to say. _That’s what you always called me._ But he smiles, because who is he to push his luck? Why should he look this gift horse – Oikawa, back home – in the mouth? “I’m just glad to have you back.”

Oikawa grins. It still feels wrong. But it’s been ten years, and Oikawa said he’d had amnesia for all of them. So, it’s obvious that his smile would have changed, right?

Unbidden, Yahaba’s grin pops into his mind, and he swallows. At first, when meeting the self-defense instructor or _whatever it was_ he was (the image of the ferocity in his eyes the other day fills his mind once again), he had thought, _Oikawa._ But upon learning his name, he realised it was probably just one of Yahaba Shigeru’s distant cousins, because of the soft brown hair, soft brown eyes, and the height. Or maybe they weren’t related at all.

It made him both miserable and relieved.

He hates the clenching feeling in his gut when he talks to Yahaba. The guilt he feels for _using_ Yahaba, as a sort of placeholder for Oikawa. But also because he is undeniably attracted to the man.

But Iwaizumi has not felt any attraction to this man since he met him again.

“There’s a movie I’ve wanted to see for a while, now,” Iwaizumi says without really thinking about it. They’ve left the cafe, and are walking down the street to, well, nowhere really. “It’s called The Coming.”

“What’s it about?” Oikawa asks. There’s something in his gaze Iwaizumi can’t quite place, but when Oikawa grins, it’s gone.

“Aliens,” Iwaizumi says with a broad smile.

Again, something flickers in Oikawa’s eyes. “Aliens, huh?” he muses. “Sounds good.”

_Why aren’t you excited you love space you love aliens you have a million conspiracy theories why aren’t you excited-_

Iwaizumi squashes those thoughts. It’s been ten years, after all. “Shall we go watch it just now? Unless you have something to get to?”

“Not at all.” Oikawa grins again. “Let’s go watch it!”

Iwaizumi smiles. He can deal with this changed Oikawa, he thinks as they enter the movie theatre, just so long as he gets to keep Oikawa. Just so long as he doesn’t lose him again.

But the feeling of _wrongness_ doesn’t help his attempt to be satisfied; but the fact that it felt much more right to have Yahaba by his side doesn’t help either.

He’s too busy thinking about these feelings to notice the faint outline of a gun tucked in the waistband of Oikawa’s jeans.


End file.
